STORIGS 
OF  BIRD  LIF6 


BYT.GILBERT  PEARSON 


-JOHNSON  PUBLISHING' CO, 
RICHMOND  VIRGINIA 


AMERICAN     SPARROW-HAWK. 


STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 


.  BY  . 


T.  GILBERT  PEARSON, 

Professor  of  Biology  and  Geology  in  the  State  Normal  and  Industrial  College, 
Greensboro,  North  Carolina 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  AND  UNDER  THE  SUPERVISION 


JOHN  L, 


RICHMOND 
J.  F.  JOHNSON  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT  1901 

BY 
T.  GILBERT  PEARSON 

All  Rights  Reserved 


12-3— 5e—H.  P. 


PREFACE 


MY  purpose  in  writing  these  stories  and  sketches  of  birds  has 
been  that  I  might  make  others  acquainted  with  the  ways  of  some 
of  the  wild  birds  which  have  been  of  so  much  interest  to  me. 
Should  they  serve  to  give  the  reader  a  little  more  intimate  ac- 
quaintance with  our  feathered  neighbors  of  the  field  and  woodland, 
my  main  object  will  have  been  accomplished. 

These  stories  are  not  fanciful,  but  are  true  to  bird  life.  The 
Arredondo  Sparrow  Hawk,  Ruffle-Breast  and  Socrates  were  particu- 
lar birds  well  known  to  others  as  to  me.  In  the  case  of  the  Bob- 
white  family,  and  Bib-neck,  the  Plover,  I  have  combined  into  the 
lives  of  a  few  birds  incidents  I  have  known  to  occur  to  many. 
The  accounts  of  visits  to  birds7  nests,  bird  colonies  and  the  like 
are  given  as  they  occurred.  In  the  Appendixes  some  suggestions 
are  offered  to  the  student  and  the  teacher. 

Several  of  these  articles  have  been  printed  in  the  North  Caro- 
lina Journal  of  Education  and  elsewhere.  One  of  them,  "The 
Childhood  of  Bib-Neck,"  is  inserted  by  the  kindness  of  the  St. 
Nicholas  Magazine. 

In  the  preparation  of  this  book  I  wish  to  acknowledge  my  obli- 
gations to  Mr.  Robert  L.  Ridgway,  Curator  of  Ornithology  in  the 
Smithsonian  Institute,  for  his  critical  reading  of  the  manuscript; 
to  Mr.  John  L.  Ridgway  for  preparing  the  excellent  designs  for  the 
eight  full  page  plates  and  forty-nv«  of  the  other  illustrations;  to 
Miss  Elsie  Weatherly  for  drawing  twenty-seven  of  the  text  figufes; 
and  to  a  number  of  other  friends  who  have  aided  and  encouraged 
me  in  many  ways. 

T.  GILBERT  PEARSQNT 

GREENSBORO,  N.  C., 

[3] 

345130 


CONTENTS 

Page 

The  Arredondo  Sparrow  Hawk 7 

Our  Chimney  Dwellers 17 

The  Childhood  of  Bib-Neck 23 

Robin  Redbreast . ?6 

An  Old  Barred  Owl 49 

The  Birds  of  Cobb's  Island  Virginia 60 

A  Pair  of  Eagles , 71 

Bird  Key , 81 

The  Mocking  Bird 91 

The  Vultures 101 

Wood  Duck  Life .112 

The  Snowbird 125 

A  Bobwhite  Family 135 

Levy,  The  Story  of  an  Egret 153 

The  Quest  for  the  Cormorant's  Nest 161 

Cuckoo,  The  Rain  Prophet 169 

Kuttle  -Breast,  The  Shrike 177 

The  City  of  the  Longlegs 185 

A  Quartet  of  Woodland  Drummers 192 

Winter  Life  on  a  College  Campus 216 

Appendix  I 225 

.  Appendix  II „. 232 

5— Birds— Cloth. 


THE  ARREDONDO  SPARROW  HAWK 


RREDONDO 
'GRANT"  is  the 
name  of  a  tract  of 
country  of  perhaps 
forty  thousand  acres, 

•  •S 

lying  in  central  Florida.  It  is 
a  region  of  low,  rolling  sand 
hills,  dotted  with  numerous  shal- 
low ponds  and  thinly  clad  in 
forests  of  yellow  pine.  Many  small  farms  and  orange 
groves  add  variety  to  the  landscape.  The  origin  of  the 
name  dates  back  to  the  time  when  the  Spaniards  ruled  the 
country  and  General  Arredondo  received  the  territory  for 
services  to  the  Spanish  government. 

The  variety  of  bird  life  here  is  not  great,  but  the  species 
which  occur  are  generally  represented  by  many  individ- 
uals. One  of  the  most  common  is  the  little  American 
sparrow  hawk,  which  remains  throughout  the  seasons. 
It  is  the  smallest  of  the  falcons.  Seldom  have  I  seen  a 
bird  which  aroused  in  me  a  keener  interest  or  deeper  sym- 
pathy than  did  one  of  these  sparrow  hawks,  whose  path  of 

life  for  some  years  ran  parallel  with  my  own. 

[7] 


8  STORIES  OF   BIRD  LIFE 

To  distinguish  him  from  another  hawk  which  lived  to 
the  westward  outside  of  the  Grant,  I  called  our  hero  the 
Arredondo  sparrow  hawk.  Later,  when  I  learned  to  know 
him  well,  I  named  him  Dick. 

The  first  time  I  remember  to  have  seen  Dick  was  on  a 
clear  balmy  morning  in  middle  January  while  the  last  of 
the  orange  pickers  were  going  about  their  work.  He  came 
out  of  the  woods  flying  high  and  going  as  though  an  eagle 
were  after  him.  Over  the  orange  grove  he  swiftly  passed 
and  turning  slightly  to  the  left  flew  toward  a  tall  light- 
ning-stricken pine  standing  at  the  edge  of  the  rice  field. 
"Tilly-tilly-tilly-tilly!"  he  cried  as  he  swept  along.  Over 
and  over  he  repeated  his  call,  until,  slacking  his  speed  with 
quivering  wings,  he  settled  on  the  lifeless  pine. 

Not  all  birds  have  mates.  There  are  many  single  females 
and  many  wifeless  males.  There  are  widows  and  widowers, 
and  often  many  little  orphans  are  left  in  the  world.  But 
old  Dick  was  none  of  these,  for  down  in  the  pines  was  the 
prettiest,  dearest  little  sweetheart  for  which  a  sparrow 
hawk  ever  sighed.  True,  she  was  slightly  heavier  than  he, 
and  her  wings  were  broader  and  her  waist  was  fully  as 
large,  but  these  things  only  added  to  her  attractiveness, 
and  besides,  she  was  his  mate,  and  he  loved  her  as  only  a 
blue-winged,  striped-cheeked  sparrow  hawk  can  love. 

A  bird  has  three  main  purposes  in  life.    First,  to  secure 


THE   ARREDONDO   SPARROW   HAWK 

food  for  its  existence;  second,  to  avoid  its  enemies;  and 
third,  to  rear  its  offspring.  In  studying  the  history  of  any 
bird  one  learns  the  details  of  these  three  phases  of  its  life. 
With  many  birds  this  is  difficult  to  do.  Some  are  very 
timid,  and  conceal  themselves  in  the  .grass  and  shrubbery. 
The  homes  of  a  few  are  in  almost  inaccessible  swamps. 
Still  others  live  far  away  on  the  rolling  ocean,  and  are  seen 
only  by  mariners  and  travelers. 

Not  so  with  the  sparrow  hawks.  In  almost  any  locality 
in  the  United  States  they  may  be  found,  although  their 
numbers  are  greater  as  one  travels  southward.  Nor  do 
they  hide  from  sight.  Their  perch  is  usually  some  tall 
stake  or  tree ;  their  food  is  caught  in  the  open ;  their  path- 
ways of  travel  are  in  full  view  through  the  boundless  sky. 

Scarcely  a  day  passed  that  I  did  not  see  Dick.  He  came 
repeatedly  to  his  perch  on  the  dead  pine  and  called,  until 
one  day  his  mate  joined  him.  At  once  he  launched  into 
the  air,  and  for  her  pleasure  began  a  series  of  elaborate 
circles  and  evolutions.  The  open  space  of  the  field  was  his 
parade  ground,  the  top  of  the  blasted  pine  was  her  grand 
stand. 

At  times  he  flew  slowly,  and  again  with  high  speed,  now 
skimming  low,  now  soaring  high  above  the  earth.  Far  out 
over  the  rice  field  and  grove  he  went,  then  turning,  came 
hurrying  back  through  the  air,  flying  to  his  mate,  calling 


10  STORIES  OF   BIRD  LIFE 

to  the  love  of  liis  youth,  his  blood  leaping  high  with  the 
ecstasy  of  spring  time.  How  he  strove  to  please  her  by 
flashing  his  pretty  feathers  in  the  sunlight !  How  delighted 
he  was  if  she  deigned  to  accept  any  article  of  food  which 
he  had  to  offer! 

Two  hundred  yards  in  the  woods  stood  an  old  blackened 
and  broken  pine  with  its  head  reaching  forty  feet  from 
the  ground.  At  some  distant  date,  now  far  out  of  mind, 


a  flicker  had  chiseled  a  hole  near  its  top  for  her  nest.  The 
owner  used  it  probably  only  for  a  single  year.  Since  then 
it  had  become  the  habitation  of  the  Arredondo  sparrow 
hawk  and  his  mate. 

One  day  I  saw  Dick  fly  up  to  the  nest  with  a  lizard  in 
his  talons.  He  entered,  and  from  its  dimly  lighted  depths 
issued  a  strange,  low  sound,— at  that  time  a  new  call  to  me, 
and  one  which  I  have  seldom  heard  since,  save  in  the 
neighborhood  of  tjie  nest.  A  moment  later  his  head  ap- 
peared at  the  opening,  and  the  strange  love  call  was  re- 


THE   ARREDONDO    SPARROW    HAWK  11 

peatecL  Evidently  it  was  an  invitation  for  her  to  come  and 
see  what  a  nice  home  was  that  hollow  in  the  tree,  and  inci- 
dentally, to  have  something  good  to  eat. 

On  the  tenth  of  April  the  nest  held  four  beautiful  eggs, 
blotched  and  spotted  with  varying  shades  of  brown  and 
chocolate.  A  boy  promptly  climbed  the  pine  and  took  the 
eggs.  On  the  twenty-ninth  of  April  five  more  were  added 
to  the  boy's  collection.  Undismayed,  the  parents  still 
clung  to  their  old  home  and  nineteen  days  later  there  was 
still  another  set  of  four  eggs  in  the  nest.  But  the  Arre- 
dondo  sparrow  hawk  was  destined  to  rear  no  young  that 
year,  for  the  third  time  the  tree  was  climbed  and  the  nest 
rifled.  After  this  the  birds  gave  up  the  attempt  and  no 
more  eggs  were  laid  that  spring. 

The  next  year  they  were  more  fortunate.  The  boy  who 
bad  had  a  mania  for  robbing  nests  had  learned  better. 
Four  young  sparrow  hawks  were  reared  with  much  care 
and  great  labor.  In  the  autumn  the  young  males  went 
through  the  maneuvers  of  love  making.  They  circled  about 
the  sky,  clamoring  in  a  noisy  manner;  one  of  them  even 
went  so  far  as  to  cling  to  the  side  of  a  tree  and  look  into 
an  old  woodpecker's  nest  and  try  his  voice  on  the  low 
love  call.  This  was  just  playing  at  love  making,  how- 
ever—a harmless  sort  of  flirtation  before  the  summer 


12  STORIES  OF   BIRD  LIFE 

season  was  quite  gone.  Swallows  and  others  have  been 
seen  to  engage  in  similar  diversions. 

It  sometimes  occurred  that  a  large  hawk  would  come  to  the 
farm  near  by  and  take  a  chicken.  As  a  preventive  against 
such  raids  the  farmer  planted  near  his  chicken  yard  some 
tall  poles.  On  cross  pieces  near  the  top  of  these  he  tied  a 
number  of  gourds,  in  each  of  which  a  round  entrance  hole 
had  been  cut.  This  was  a  standing  invitation  to  purple 
martins,  who  read  by  the  sign  that  here  were  rooms  to  let. 
So  it  happened  that  each  season  several  pairs  made  these 
gourds  their  homes. 

Martins  keep  a  sharp  lookout  for  hawks.  I  often  noticed, 
however,  that  the  sparrow  hawk  or  his  mate  discovered 
the  presence  of  the  chicken  killer  before  the  martins,  and 
by  their  loud  cries  and  bold  attacks  quickly  drove  it  from 
the  neighborhood. 

One  cloudy  summer  afternoon  a  great  horned  owl  came 
out  of  the  big  woods  and  alighted  on  a  pine  near  the  farm. 
Now,  most  birds  dislike  the  larger  hawks  because  they 
sometimes  catch  small  birds ;  they  have  little  relish  for  the 
crow,  for  he  has  been  known  to  steal  eggs ;  but  they  hate, 
literally  hate  and  dread  an  owl.  His  dark  deeds  are  done 
nnder  cover  of  the  midnight  shadows  when  all  are  asleep. 
Like  a  thief  in  the  night,  he  descends  upon  the  uncon- 


THE   AEEEDONDO   SPARROW   HAWK  13 

scious  victim.    Where  is  the  feathered  creature  that  loves 
an  owl? 

A  red-headed  woodpecker  was  the  first  to  discover  this 
big  horned  fellow,  and  his  wrathful  notes  told  at  once  of 
danger.  Other  birds  were  attracted  by  the  noise,  and  came 
quickly  to  join  their  voices  in  a  chorus  of  protests.  Such  a 
bedlam  of  sounds  they  made,  as  flying  about  the  tree  or  hop- 
ping among  the  branches  they  heaped  upon  the  unfortunate 
owl  all  the  vile  epithets  they  could  command !  There  were 
a  pair  of  mocking  birds,  a  shrike  and  several  blue  jays; 
and  a  dozen  martins  added  their  cackling  notes  to  the 
uproar. 

^High  above  all  flew  the  Arredondo  sparrow  hawk.  Sud- 
denly he  descended  straight  as  an  arrow  at  the  head  of 
the  hated  owl.  The  old  rogue  dodged  the  blow  and  soon 
turned  his  wing-beats  toward  the  depths  of  the  forest. 
Above  him  in  the  air  hung  the  pair  of  sparrow  hawks, 
who  continued  their  pursuit,  taking  turns  at  striking  down 
at  him,  for  fully  half  a  mile  of  his  flight. 

The  food  of  the  sparrow  hawks  consisted  largely  of 
grasshoppers,  together  with  a  sprinkling  of  beetles  and 
crickets.  I  have  seen  them  capture  the  little  striped 
lizards  common  along  the  paths  and  highways  of  Florida. 
But  first  and  last  their  fare  is  grasshoppers.  Where  they 
find  them  when  cold  weather  conies  would  be  hard. to  tell, 


14  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

but  find  them  they  do,  and  in  great  numbers  as  well.  Woe 
to  the  luckless  grasshopper  that  lives  in  a  field  over  which 
a  sparrow  hawk  keeps  watch ! 

The  hard  in- 
digestible parts 
of  the  insects  are 
disgorged  in 
balls  the  size  of 

small  marbles,  and  may  be  found  about  their  roost- 
ing places.  Like  an  owl,  the  sparrow  hawk  eats  its 
prey,  and  afterward  at  leisure  picks  out  and  discards  the 
objectionable  parts. 

Unlike  many  other  birds  Dick  and  his  mate  associated 
together  throughout  the  year.  They  roosted  under  the 
eaves  of  a  public  school  building  standing  within  the 
border  of  their  domain.  The  male  was  ever  distrustful  of 
a  man  and  knew  to  a  nicety  the  range  of  a  gun,  for  he 
always  left  his  perch  before  an  effective  shooting  distance 
was  reached. 

The  female  was  very  trustful.  Would  that  she  had 
known  better  the  heart  of  man !  One  day  a  boy  stealthily 
approached  to  within  a  few  yards  of  where  she  sat  and 
suddenly  throwing  a  heavy  stick,  struck  her  to  the  ground. 
He  quickly  beat  her  into  unconsciousness  and  after  a  look 
at  her  feathers  threw  her  body  down  beside  the  path. 


THE   ARREDONDO   SPARROW   HAWK  15 

And  there  old  Dick's  mate  lay  in  the  sunshine  until  the 
ants,  which  soon  swarmed  over  her,  had  consumed  her 
flesh,  and  the  feathers  went  dancing  before  the  wind  across 
the  stubble  of  the  rice  field. 

It  has  sometimes  been  claimed  that  eagles  mate  for  life, 
and  that  if  one  of  a  pair  is  killed  the  surviving  member 
will  never  mate  again.  The  same  has  been  said  of  swans 
and  some  other  birds.  I  do  not  know  if  these  things  be 
true,  but  I  do  know  that  the  Arredondo  sparrow  hawk, 
bereft  of  his  companion,  did  not  mate  again  during  the 
three  subsequent  years  in  which  I  knew  him. 

He  did  not  appear  to  miss  his  mate  until  the  warm  days 
of  January  came.  Then  the  swelling  buds  and  the  soft 
winds  from  the  Gulf  began  to  sing  weird,  sweet  strains  in 
his  ears.  Out  of  the  woods  he  came  bounding  one  bright 
morning,  and  circled  on  strong  wings  about  the  orange 
grove.  He  called  and  signaled  as  he  cleaved  the  air  above 
the  rice  field  in  his  graceful  flight.  But  there  was  none  to 
answer  him,  no  bright  eye  to  follow  his  movements  on  his 
aerial  parade  ground,  for  no  fond  spectator  sat  on  the 
top  of  the  dead  pine  tree. 

Day  after  day  he  came  in  vain  to  their  try  sting  place. 
Day  after  day  his  yearning  heart  was  unstilled,  and  his 
eager  eyes  sought  through  sky  and  field  and  forest  his  lost 
companion.  One  day  with  food  in  his  talons  he  flew  up  to 


16  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

the  old  nesting  place,  and  in  deep  quiet  tones  gave  the  low 
love  call  so  dear  to  his  mate  in  other  days. 

For  more  than  a  fortnight  the  faithful  bird  sought  his 
own,  and  then,  yielding  to  despair,  ceased  to  call,  and  the 
long,  cheerless  silence  of  a  mateless  life  closed  in  upon  him. 

THOUGHT  QUESTIONS 

Are  the  males  of  all  the  birds  you  know  colored  differently  from  the 
females?  Did  you  ever  see  a  hawk  on  the  ground;  if  so,  did  you  see  it 
walk  ?  Do  you  think  hawks  walk  much  on  the  ground  ?  Why  ?  Does  a 
hawk  soar  or  flop  its  wings  when  flying,  or  does  it  do  both?  Does  it  catch 
its  prey  with  its  beak  or  with  its  claws?  How  many  kinds  of  hawks  can 
you  name?  Can  you  think  of  any  enemies  which  a  hawk  might  have 
besides  men?  How  many  kinds  of  creatures  can  you  name  that  the 
sparrow  hawk  and  other  hawks  will  catch  and  eat  ? 


OUR  CHIMNEY  DWELLERS 


NE  late  summer's  even- 
ing after  the  sun  went 
down,  there  were  ob- 
served flying  above 
the  tree-tops  about  the 
village  a  large  num- 
ber of  black  objects. 
Somebody  said  they 
were  bats,  while  others 
pronounced  them  swallows. 
But  they  were  neither.  The 
swarm  of  dusky  forms  swinging  rapidly  about  the  sky 
was  a  flock  of  chimney  swifts.  They  seemed  to  be  more 
numerous  in  the  neighborhood  of  a  large  college  building. 
Presently  they  began  circling  in  one  rushing,  revolving, 
twittering  mass  of  bird  life.  One  side  of  this  living  wheel 
passed  directly  over  the  large  chimney  which  leads  down 
to  the  furnace  in  the  basement. 

Suddenly,  during  those  last  moments  of  twilight  before 
the  darkness  falls,  one  of  the  swifts  threw  up  its  wings 
and  dropped  out  of  sight  into  the  chimney.  Soon  another 

117] 


18  STORIES  OF   BIRD   LIFE 

did  the  same,  then  another  and  another.  They  went  in  by 
pairs,  by  fours,  almost  by  dozens.  The  wheel  continued  to 
revolve  while  a  stream  of  birds,  as  if  thrown  off  by  a  kind 
of  centrifugal  force,  continued  pouring  down  into  the  gap- 
ing mouth  of  darkness. 

We  stood  and  counted  as  best  we  could  the  numbers  in 
this  cataract  of  feathered  life.  Not  for  one  moment  was 
the  scene  changed  until  the  play  was  at  an  end.  "One 
thousand,"  I  said.  "One  thousand  and  twenty-five,"  an- 
swered the  gentleman  with  me,  who  had  probably  counted 
more  correctly.  Five  or  six  birds  which  had  hesitated  to 
the  last  moment  to  take  the  plunge,  and  now  possibly 
missed  the  moral  support  of  the  large  company,  gave  up 
the  idea  of  stopping  there  that  night,  and,  turning,  flew 
away  into  the  falling  darkness.  Night  closed  in  upon  the 
great  chimney  with  its  sooty  walls  lined  with  an  army  of 
clinging,  drowsy  swifts;  for  this  was  the  huge  bedroom 
of  these  little  pickaninnies  of  the  air. 

It  was  now  seventeen  minutes  past  seven  o'clock.  Less 
than  twenty  minutes  had  been  required  for  the  whole  flock 
to  enter.  Since  early  morning  each  bird  had  been  upon  the 
wing,  roaming  the  endless  pathways  of  the  air  in  quest  of 
insect  food.  It  is  likely  that  not  once  during  the  day  had 
one  paused  to  rest,  as  the  swift  never  trusts  the  weight  of 


OUR  CHIMNEY  DWELLERS  19 

its  body  to  its  weak  feet  except  at  such  times  as  when  in 
the  hollow  breast  of  a  great  tree,  or  down 
the  yawning  throat  of  a  chimney,  it  can  cling 
perpendicularly  to  the  wall,  braced  from  below 
by  its  tail,  each  feather  of  which  ends  in  a  stiff 
needle-like  outgrowth. 

In  the  early  morning  we  hastened  out  to  see  if 
the  swifts  were  up  and  away.  Over  the  rim  of  the 
chimney  we  found  them  coming,  singly,  by  twos, 
by  threes,  by  fours;  making  long  sweeps  toward 
the  earth  with  the  first  bound ;  then  mounting  high 
in  the  air  with  innumerable  twitterings,  they  would 
be  off  for  the  day's  experiences.  At  five  minutes 
of  six  o'clock  they  ceased  to  appear.  More  than 
eight  hundred  had  been  counted  within  fifteen  min- 
utes. Something  unexpected  now  happened.  Back 
into  the  chimney  came  rushing  the  swifts.  In  ten  minutes 
one  hundred  and  sixteen  had  re-entered.  What  could  it 
mean!  Up  from  the  east  a  dark,  threatening  cloud  was 
moving.  The  swifts  had  espied  it,  and  all  those  which  by 
this  time  were  not  far  afield  came  hurrying  back  to  the 
chimney  of  refuge. 

For  many  evenings  we  watched  these  birds.  They 
always  went  to  roost  in  the  same  way,  going  through  the 
same  performances.  For  more  than  two  weeks  they  con- 


20  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

tinued  with  us.  One  day  near  the  middle  of  September, 
we  saw  from  my  window  that  the  maple  trees  over  on  the 
hillside  were  turning  yellow  and  red.  "Autumn  has 
come,"  said  my  friend.  Perhaps  the  swifts  saw  the  sign 
too  and  passed  the  word  that  summer  had  ended  and  the 
air  would  soon  be  free  from  insects. 

That  evening  at  the  hour  of  gathering  about  the  chimney 
less  than  one  hundred  appeared.  The  great  flock  had 
probably  taken  up  its  line  of  flight  and  was  now  far  on 
its  course  toward  the  land  of  perpetual  summer.  The 
others  lingered  for  a  month  longer,  gathering  in  strag- 
glers and  also  those  families,  the  young  of  which  had  been 
slow  in  getting  upon  the  wing ;  and  then  one  day  they,  too, 
were  off  to  join  their  fellows  beneath  the  skies  of  Mexico 
or  Central  America. 

We  shall  see  no  more  of  the  swifts  until  some  day  next 
spring  when  we  may  hear  falling  to  us  from  the  air  above 
a  joyous  twittering,  and,  looking  up,  may  catch  a  view  of 
the  first  arrival,  a  black,  animated,  bow-and-arrow  shaped 
object  darting  about  at  such  a  height  that  it  seems  to  be 
scratching  its  back  against  the  sky. 

The  birds  usually  reach  us  in  April,  and  within  a  few 
weeks  nest  building  begins.  The  structure  consists  of  a 
bracket  work  of  dead  twigs  glued  together  somewhat  in 
the  form  of  a  half  saucer.  It  may  be  found  sticking  to  the 


CUB  CHIMNEY  DWELLERS  21 

wall  on  the  inside  of  some  chimney.  These  twigs  are  the 
ends  of  small,  dead  branches  broken  from  the  trees  by  the 
birds,  who  grasp  them  with  their  feet  or  bill  while  on  the 
wing.  They  are  fastened  together  by  a  salivary  substance 
secreted  by  glands  in  the  bird 's  mouth. 

Sometimes  the  flow  of  this  gluing  secretion  is  checked. 
This  is  possibly  due  in  part  to  an  unhealthy  condition  of 
the  bird.  At  such  times  the  nest  building  must  proceed 
but  slowly,  and  it  may  even  be  delayed  until  time  for  the 
eggs  to  be  deposited.  Often  nests  have  been  examined 
which  contained  eggs  many  days  before  the  full  number 
of  twigs  had  been  glued  in  place. 

Before  the  settlement  of  this  country  the  swifts  built 
their  nests  on  the  inner  vertical  sides  of  hollow  trees,  but 
when  the  white  man  came  with  his  chimneys  they  left  their 
homes  in  the  forest  and  came  to  dwell  with  him. 

A  chimney  is  usually  occupied  by  but  one  pair  of  birds. 
It  is  only  in  the  autumn,  when  the  swifts  accumulate  from 
far  and  near  about  some  favorite  roosting  place,  that  we 
see  so  many  inhabiting  one  chimney.  Their  eggs  are  four 
or  five  in  number,  and  are  white.  Nature  is  not  inclined 
to  lavish  her  coloring  material  on  the  shells  of  eggs  where 
it  is  not  needed.  With  few  exceptions  those  which  are 
deposited  in  dark  places,  as  in  chimneys,  or  holes  in  trees, 
or  in  the  ground,  are  white.  Such  eggs  do  not  need  the 


22  STORIES   OF  BIED  LIFE 

protection  of  coloring  matter  as  do  those  which  are  laid  m 
open  nests  and  are  thus  exposed  to  the  eyes  of  many  ene- 
mies. 

In  China  and  some  of  the  neighboring  countries  there 
are  swifts  which  build  very  peculiar  nests.  No  sticks  or 
twigs  are  employed  in  their  construction,  the  gummy 
saliva  from  the  bird 's  mouth  being  the  only  material  used. 
These  nests  are  much  sought  by  the  people  of  those  coun- 
tries as  an  article  of  food.  They  are  built  on  the  faces  of 
cliffs,  or  the  walls  of  caves.  In  large  numbers  they  are 
gathered  and  sold  in  the  markets  as  ' edible  bird's  nests7. 
To  prepare  them  for  the  table  they  are  cooked  in  the  form 
of  soup. 

Our  swift  is  a  representative  of  a  large  and  widely  known 
family.  There  are  about  eighty  species  found  throughout 
the  world..  About  thirty  occur  in  America,  but  only  four 
in  North  America,  and  the  chimney  swift  alone  represents 
the  family  in  the  eastern  part  of  the  United  States. 

THOUGHT  QUESTIONS 

When  do  the  swifts  first  come  in  the  spring?  When  do  they  leave? 
Can  you  tell  a  swift  from  a  swallow?  How  is  a  swift  different  from  a 
bat?  Bid  you  ever  know  two  pairs  of  swifts  to  build  their  nests  in  one 
chimney  the  same  year?  Did  you  ever  know  young  swifts  to  fall  down  a 
chimney  into  the  grate  or  fireplace?  If  left  alone  did  they  at  length  get 
back  up  the  chimney?  Do  you  think  swifts  ever  eat  fruit?  How  do 
swallows  and  swifts  get  water  to  drink? 


THE  CHILDHOOD  OF  BIB-NECK 


ffiv 


OWN  on  the  beach  among  the  sand 
dunes  at  Cape  Lookout  there  is  a 
certain  small  stretch  of  desert 
where  the  sun  shines  warm  and  the  fierce  gales  which 
sweep  over  the  ocean  never  strike,  except  as  in  little  eddies 
they  whisk  around  the  dunes  and  blow  the  dry  sand  rat- 
tling among  the  broken  sea  shells.  There  is  no  vegetation 
except  on  the  sheltered  side  of  the  sand  hills  where  the 
wild  sea  oats  grow,  and  bend,  and  toss  their  heavy  heads 
before  each  breeze.  Some  distance  over  the  dunes  can  be 
seen  the  dun-colored  roof  of  the  life-saving  station,  stand- 
ing well  back  from  the  ocean  beach.  Nearly  two  miles  to 
the  north  looms  the  Cape  Lookout  lighthouse,  a  black  and 
white  signal  pillar  by  day,  a  blaze  of  warning  light  by 
night. 

On  this  small  sandy  desert  one  June  morning  a  young 
bird  for  the  first  time  peeped  out  with  its  little  round  eyes. 

[23] 


24:  STOEIES  OF  BIRD  LITE 

It  did  not  distinctly  see,  or  hear,  or  think  anything.  All 
it  cared  for  was  the  pleasure  of  being  out  of  that  horrid  old 
shell,  and  feeling  the  warm  sun  on  its  head  and  the  soft 
sea  wind  blowing  the  ends  of  its  downy  feathers. 

However,  it  soon  began  to  notice  things.  Its  eyes  opened 
a  little  wider  and  it  could  see  the  warm  white  sand  every- 
where and  the  waving  sea  oats  on  the  dunes  round  about, 


and  could  hear  the  dull  roar  of  the  waves  pounding  over 
on  the  beach.  By  its  side  lay  two  other  little  birds,  its 
sisters,  and  also  a  spotted  egg  sharply  pointed  at  one  end. 
Their  nest  was  a  mere  hollow  in  the  ground,  which  the 
mother  had  scratched  out  and  lined  with  a  few  smooth 
pieces  of  shells ;  but  it  was  quite  enough  for  the  short  time 
these  little  beach  babies  would  have  need  for  a  home. 

The  mother  was  standing  near  and  the  youngster  en- 
joyed looking  at  her.    The  feathers  of  her  breast  were  very 
t  white,  whiter  even  than  the  sand,  and  she  wore  a  dull  gray 


THE  CHILDHOOD  OF  BIB-NECK  25 

coat  above.  About  her  white  neck  was  a  gray  belt,  like  a 
bib  so  loose  that  it  had  slipped  down  on  her  breast.  How 
large  she  was,  too!  She  could  stand  and  look  over  the 
largest  shell  on  the  beach,  for  she  could  reach  up  until 
she  was  five  or  six  inches  tall.  She  had  long  slender  legs, 
and  little  feet.  There  were  only  three  toes  on  each  foot, 
but  she  could  run  very  fast,  nevertheless ;  faster  than 
the  big  white  crabs  when  they  chased  each 
other.  Her  voice  was  soft  and  clear,  so  that 
she  spoke  in  a  mellow  whistle  as  though  there 
was  a  sort  of  bird  flute  in  her  throat.  She 
was  of  that  species  which  men  have  named 
the  Wilson's  plover. 

Now,  little  Bib-neck  (although  he  did  not 
grow  the  bib  on  his  neck  for  days  to  come)  and  his  sisters 
grew  tired  of  staying  in  the  hole  in  the  sand,  as  they  had 
grown  weary  of  remaining  inside  the  eggshells.  Soon 
they  were  out  running  about  and  learning  many  wonderful 
things.  Their  mother  fed  them  and  taught  them  the  secrets 
of  the  seashore  and  the  ways  of  plover  life.  They  were 
not  allowed  to  go  near  the  water,  but  they  often  watched 
their  parents  run  down  behind  a  wave  as  it  left  the  beach, 
quickly  pick  up  what  good  things  could  be  found  to  eat, 
and  then  come  speeding  back  as  the  next  breaker  would 
rush  in.  In  a  short  time  they  would  be  grown  and  could 


2(  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

do  that  too,  the  little  ones  told  themselves.  At  times  the 
family  would  cross  to  the  other  side  of  the  sand  banks 
and  feed  along  the  quiet  water's  edge  of  the  sound. 

Their  mother  taught  them  that  when  the  wind  blew 
strong  they  must  stand  or  move  with  their  faces  toward 
it.  No  self-respecting  plover  would  ever  attempt  to  take 
wing  in  any  other  direction  than  against  the  wind,  for  if 
one  tried  to  rise  with  the  wind,  its  feathers  would  be 
blown  about  in  a  dreadful  manner  and  it  would  find 
much  difficulty  in  starting  off.  When  severe  storms  came, 
the  plover  family  would  run  up  the  beach  to  the  dunes  and 
sit  in  the  shelter  of  the  sand  hills,  listening  to  the  rustle 
of  the  waving  sea  oats,  and  watch  the  waves  throw  up  their 
white  hands  as  if  the  shock  hurt  them  when  they  struck 
the  shore. 

"Always  sit  still  when  danger  is  near/'  mother  plover 
had  often  told  the  little  ones.  The  color  of  their  down  was 
such  that  if  they  remained  motionless  it  was  quite  hard  to 
distinguish  them  from  the  ground  on  which  they  lay. 
Many  other  young  birds  besides  plovers  have  learned  this 
lesson,  and  by  acting  on  it  have  sometimes  saved  their 
lives. 

Bib-neck  often  watched  the  gulls  flying  about  over  the 
ocean,  chasing  each  other,  and  now  and  then  sweeping 
down  to  pick  up  objects  from  the  waves.  One  day  a  large 


THE   CHILDHOOD  OF  BIB-NECK  27 

one  came  down  the  beach  and  gave  Bib-neck  a  great  fright. 
He  lay  quite  still,  but  he  felt  sure  the  gull  saw  him ;  for  he 
looked  down  and  gave  a  loud,  laughing  shout  that  filled 
Bib-neck  with  terror.  Then  the  gull  flew  around  and 
around  and  called  so  loud  that  it  seemed  that  all  creatures 
everywhere  must  hear  the  signal. 

A  bird  which  appeared  to  be  a  small  gull,  but  was  in 
reality  a  tern,  did  hear  and  soon  joined  him.  It  had  a  ter- 
rible little  voice  and  squeaked  as  though  its  wings  were 
fastened  on  with  rusty  hinges.  Bib-neck  lay  very  quiet 
and  hoped  that  they  would  not  hurt  him ;  and  they  did  not, 
for  probably  they  never  saw  him.  Pretty  soon  the  gull 
flew  down  close  to  the  little  plover,  and  then  with  a  cry  like 
a  loud  laugh  it  flew  up  again  and  went  on  down  the  shore 
followed  by  the  tern.  An  old  straw  hat  had  been  washed 
ashore  and  was  lying  near  the  spot  where  Bib-neck  was 
crouching,  and  it  was  no  doubt  this  which  had  interested 
the  gull  and  the  tern. 

But  a  more  dangerous  experience,  if  not  a  more  fright- 
ful one,  was  in  store  for  this  juvenile  inhabitant  of  the 
dunes.  One  day  a  sudden  cry  of  warning  from  his  mother 
caused  him  to  squat  silent  and  immovable  as  the  worn  and 
broken  seashells  about  him.  An  instant  later  a  fierce  hawk 
stopped  suddenly  in  mid-air  almost  directly  overhead. 

Now  hawks  are  not  common  along  these  beaches  and  the 


28  STOKIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

wonder  is  that  Bib-neck  knew  enough  to  lie  quiet.  The 
hawk  had  seen  him  near  that  spot  only  the  fraction  of  a 
second  before,  and  it  checked  its  flight  with  a  mighty  whir 
and  flap  of  its  wings  which  it  hoped  would  cause  the  little 
plover  to  start,  or  move  his  head  just  the  least  portion  of 
an  inch,  and  thus  disclose  himself.  But  Bib-neck  did  not 
stir,  although  the  shadow  of  the  bird  had  fallen  over  him 
and  the  wicked  yellow  eyes  seemed  to  look  straight  into  his 
as  they  searched  the  sands.  The  hawk  wheeled  and  hov- 
ered, and  then  flew  off  only  to  return  in  half  a  minute 
with  another  great  rush.  It  disliked  to  give  up  the  search, 
for  it  was  hungry  and  was  hunting  in  good  earnest  for  its 
dinner. 

But  it  did  not  have  much  longer  to  wait,  for  it  soon  sur- 
prised a  red-shouldered  blackbird  among  the  reeds  of  a 
small  marsh  back  of  the  dunes.  Away  went  the  blackbird 
with  a  startled  cackle,  the  hawk  in  hot  pursuit. 

Bib-neck  saw  it  all  from  his  lookout  tower  on  the  top  of  a 
dune.  He  beheld  his  marsh  neighbor  when  first  he  flew,  and 
saw  him  at  intervals  during  the  game  of  dodging  which  fol- 
lowed. He  often  saw  the  red  epaulettes  of  the  blackbird 
twinkle  in  the  sunlight,  and  at  times  the  flash  of  light  on 
the  upturned  flanges  of  the  hawk's  wings  as  it  dived  and 
twisted  in  the  race.  It  was  all  so  new  and  fearful  and 
exciting  to  him  that  he  fairly  danced  with  nervousness. 


THE  CHILDHOOD  OF  BIB-NECK 


29 


The  game  was  a  short  one,  for  the  small  bird  was  no  match 
for  his  foe. 

.As  the  blackbird  was  in  the  act  of  darting  into  a  clump 
of  sea  oats  a  long  yellow  foot  with  claws  sharp  as  needles 
closed  down  upon  him  and  one  shrill  cry  told  that  the  end 
had  come.  There  on  some  driftwood  the  hawk  stood  and, 
holding  its  prey  with  its  feet,  reached  down  with  its  long 
curved  beak  and  the  midday  meal  began. 

The  men  who  lived 
at  the  life-saving  sta- 
tion sometimes  came 
to  the  part  of  the 
beach  where  the 
plover  family  lived. 
One  day  two  of  them 
passed  close  to  where 
Bib-neck  and  his  sis- 
ter were.  They  sat 
very  close  on  the  sand 
and  the  men  did  not 

see  them.  Father  and  mother  plover  were  quite  uneasy. 
They  flew  close  to  the  men  and  cried  and  tried  to  get  the 
intruders  to  follow  them  away.  The  mother  even  pre- 
tended to  be  lame.  When  the  men  saw  this  one  of  them 
said,  "Look  at  that  bird ;  she  has  a  nest  or  young  ones  near 
here,  or  she  would  not  do  that  way.  I  have  seen  partridges 


30  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

on  the  mainland  act  in  the  same  manner  when  I  was  near 
their  young. ' ' 

Then  they  began  to  search  among  the  shells.  This 
alarmed  the  parents  so  much  that  they  determined  to  try 
their  last  and  best  trick.  The  little  mother  ran  up  close 
to  the  men,  fell  on  her  side  and  fluttered  and  cried  as 
though  she  were  dying.  The  father  bird,  and  two  other 
plovers  who  had  a  nest  farther  up  the  shore,  ran  to  her 
and  rubbed  her  with  their  bills  as  if  very  anxious  and  so 
sorry  about  her  sickness. 

i ' Look  there,"  said  the  man  who  had  spoken  before; 
' '  that  bird  really  is  hurt.  I  have  seen  many  kinds  of  birds 
pretend  to  be  injured,  but  have  never  seen  two  play  differ- 
ent parts  in  the  same  trick. ' ' 

So  they  tried  to  catch  her.  But  Mrs.  Plover  seemed  to 
get  better,  and  ran  on  for  fifteen  or  twenty  yards  and  then 
appeared  to  be  taken  sick  again.  The  other  plovers  gath- 
ered about  as  before  and  put  their  bills  under  her  as  if 
to  raise  and  help  the  sick  one.  The  men  went  hurrying 
on,  but  the  lady  bird  again  recovered  enough  to  run  for 
a  little  distance.  Bib-neck  saw  them  pass  off  among  the 
dunes,  the  four  birds  in  front  and  the  two  men  following 
after. 

The  young  plovers  grew  very  rapidly  both  in  stature  and 
in  wisdom,  so  that  before  the  autumn  came  they  were  as 


THE   CHILDHOOD   OF   BIB-NECK 

large,  if  not  as  wise,  as  their  parents.  During  the  latter 
part  of  the  summer  many  other  birds,  some  larger  and 
some  smaller  than  the  plovers,  began  to  appear  on  the 
beaches.  At  night  numbers  of  feathered  forms  appeared 
to  be  flying  southward  overhead,  and  strange  voices  called 
to  each  other  out  of  the  sky. 

Flocks  of  sandpipers,  sanderlings  and  plovers  contin- 
ually stopped  on  the  beaches  to  feed  and  rest  before  con- 
tinuing their  journey.  They  came  at  length  in  swarms, 
and  their  numbers  seemed  to  be  without  limit.  Hun- 
dreds, and  sometimes  thousands,  would  rise  and  whirl  up 
or  down  the  beach  with  wonderful  precision,  all  rising, 
or  dropping,  or  turning  witfc  the  accuracy  of  perfectly 
trained  soldiers. 

All  these  sights  seemed  very  new  and  wonderful  to  Bib- 
neck,  and  yet  the  forefathers  of  these  birds  had  been  acting 
in  the  same  way  for  thousands  of  years.  It  seemed  that  no 
bird  wanted  to  be  alone  and  all  kept  in  flocks  as  far  as 
possible.  Bib-neck  began  to  imbibe  some  of  the  same 
spirit,  and  once  or  twice  when  a  flock  of  semi-palmated 
plovers  flew  by,  he  joined,  and  fed  with  them  for  half  a 
day.  But  for  the  most  part  he  staid  by  himself  or  in  com- 
pany with  his  parents  and  sisters. 

There  were  also  thereabouts  some  tall  yellow-legged 
birds  which  had  loud  clear  voices,  and  when  they  called 


32  STOKIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

all  could  hear,  from  the  edge  of  the  breakers  up  to  the 
dunes  and  beyond.  The  yellow-legs  were  the  sentinels, 
and  were  always  the  first  to  see  the  approach  of  an  enemy. 
When  the  clear  whistling  danger  call  of  the  yellow-legs 
came  down  on  the  wind,  the  beach  birds  gathered  them- 
selves for  a  sudden  dash;  for  in  flight,  rather  than  in 
crouching,  their  chief  safety  now  lay.  Men  with  guns  were 
the  foes  most  to  be  feared  at  this  season. 

The  boy  who  lived  at  the  lighthouse  would  bring  his  old 
musket  every  day  or  two  and  run  along  the  beach  after  the 
droves  of  birds,  shooting,  and  calling  to  his  dog  to  catch 
them.  And  the  dog  would  rush  barking  across  the  sand 
at  any  flock  of  birds  which  settled  near.  All  this  but 
added  to  the  birds'  experiences  of  the  day  and  they  did 
not  object  to  the  element  of  danger  in  the  sport,  for  sel- 
dom was  anyone  hurt. 

There  came  a  day  which  they  all  had  cause  to  remem- 
ber. One  morning  the  shrill  warning  flute  of  the  yellow- 
legs  suddenly  rang  out  and  sounded  again  and  again. 
These  birds  had  arisen  from  the  sand  and  were  flying 
swiftly  down  the  beach,  calling  to  everybody  that  danger 
was  abroad.  The  distant  discharge  of  a  gun  was  followed 
in  a  few  seconds  by  flocks  of  birds  hurrying  down  the 
shore.  Eunning  to  the  top  of  his  favorite  dune,  Bib-neck 
saw  four  or  five  men  with  guns,  coming  at  a  distance. 


THE  CHILDHOOD  OF  BIB-NECK  33 

They  wore  leggins  and  each  carried  a  hunting  bag,  for 
they  were  sportsmen  from  the  yacht  which  the  evening 
before  had  dropped  anchor  in  the  bight  of  the  cape. 

On  they  came  with  bang  after  bang  of  the  terrible  guns. 
The  birds  rose  before  them  and  whirled  away  in  swarms. 
One  at  a  time  the  hunters  dropped  behind  each  other  and 
hid  themselves  among  the  dunes.  At  last  only  one  man 
was  in  sight  far  down  the  shore. 

This  wet  beach,  with  its  shallow  pools  here  and  there 
left  by  the  receding  tides,  was  a  favorite  feeding  place  for 
the  birds,  and  they  were  loath  to  leave  it.  So,  after  being 
driven  to  the  extremity  of  their  range  by  the  solitary  hun- 
ter, many  flocks  circled  him  and  turned  again  up  the 
beach.  This  quickly  brought  them  within  range  of  one  of 
the  concealed  hunters,  and  then  another  and  a  few  moments 
later  still  another  was  shooting  into  their  midst. 

Back  and  forth,  up  and  down,  the  terrified  birds  flew, 
calling  and  calling  constantly,  while  through  it  all  ever 
sounded  the  danger  cries  of  the  faithful  yellow-legs. 
Every  way  the  flocks  turned  they  encountered  a  gun  whose 
discharge  tore  murderously  through  their  ranks.  For 
many  hours  this  killing  continued,  and  when  at  length  the 
hunters  went  their  way  they  carried  with  them  long  strings 
of  birds  as  well  as  full  hunting  bags. 

Many  were  shot  and  fell  which  the  hunters  failed  to  find. 


34  STOKTES  OF   BIRD  LIFE 

Bib-neck  saw  a  wounded  one  that  flew  out  over  the  breakers 
sink  lower  and  lower  until  it  fell.  For  a  time  it  rode  the 
waves,  but  these  at  length  beat  out  its  life,  and  long  after 
the  gunners  had  gone  he  watched  its  small  white  body  as 
it  rose  and  fell  on  the  billows,  drifting  out  to  sea. 

One  afternoon  it  began  to  rain.  All  night  the  clouds 
gathered  and  the  rain  fell  and  the  wind  blew.  The  sky 
and  the  sea  were  very  black  except  for  the  pale  glow  of  the 
white  caps  on  the  shore.  Of  the  hosts  hurrying  south- 
ward many  lost  their  way  because  they  could  not  see  the 
landmarks  below,  and  were  driven  out  to  sea  and  the  hun- 
gry waves  swallowed  up  their  weary  bodies.  Others  were 
blinded  by  the  glare  of  the  lighthouse  and  dashed  help- 
lessly against  the  big  lamp  or  struck  the  sides  of  the  tower 
and  were  killed.  It  was  a  terrible  night  for  the  migrating 
birds  and  many  thousands  must  have  perished. 

Soon  after  this  a  flock  of  large,  fine  looking  birds  was 
seen  feeding  on  the  beach.  If  the  old  plovers  had  really 
known  they  might  have  told  their  children  that  these  birds 
were  plovers  also,  their  relatives,  the  black-bellied  plovers 
who  lived  in  the  far  north  and  were  now  on  their  way 
south,  like  so  many  other  birds,  to  spend  the  winter  months. 
The  sight  of  these  but  stirred  Bib-neck's  spirit  the  more, 
for  a  great  longing  had  grown  in  his  mind  to  fly  away  to 
the  southward  with  the  migrating  multitudes. 


THE  CHILDHOOD  OF  BIB-NECK  35 

One  evening  a  company  of  sandpipers  and  plovers  came 
flying  overhead.  They  called  and  piped  so  loudly  that  the 
plover  family  thought  it  was  time  for  them  to  heed  the 
warning.  So  they  arose  from  the  beach  and  bidding  fare- 
well to  the  waves  and  the  dunes  and  the  nodding  sea  oats, 
joined  the  travelers,  and  soon  all  were  lost  to  view,  flying 
southward,  southward  toward  the  shores  of  perpetual  sum- 
mer. 


THOUGHT  QUESTIONS 

The  killdeer  is  a  kind  of  plover;  have  you  ever  seen  one?  How  do 
birds  teach  their  young — by  telling,  or  by  showing  them?  Why  do  birds 
sometimes  sit  still  when  danger  is  near ?  Have  foil  ever  seen  birds  pretend 
to  be  hurt  in  order  to  attract  attention?  When?  Do  you  know  many 
birds  which  leave  the  country  when  winter  comes?  Name  some.  Why  do 
they  go  south? 


ROBIN  REDBREAST 


I  T  H  0  U  T 

doubt  the 
most  popular  bird 
with  the  people  of 
our  country  is  the 
American  robin. 
Even  in  parts  of  the  most  southern  tier  of  States,  where 
he  is  seen  only  in  winter,  the  place  he  holds  in  the  hearts  of 
men  is  second  only  to  the  master  songster,  the  mocking 
bird.  He  is  such  a  cheerful,  companionable  fellow  that  one 
cannot  help  loving  him. 

In  regions  where  the  robin  passes  the  spring  and  summer 
months  his  song  is  well  known.  Scarcely  do  the  first  faint 
streaks  of  light  appear  on  the  eastern  sky  before  the  robin, 
mounted  on  a  tree  top  or  some  protruding  bough,  begins 
to  pour  forth  his  morning  hymn  of  loud,  cheerful  notes. 
At  almost  any  time  of  day  one  may  hear  his  song,  as  it  is 

continued  at  intervals  until  late  in  the  afternoon. 

P361 


ROBIN  REDBREAST  37 

The  male  has  no  employment  while  his  mate  is  sitting 
except  to  gather  food,  preen  his  feathers,  and  indulge  in 
such  singing  as  his  joyous  heart  may  dictate.  However, 
when  the  baby  robins  have  broken  their  blue  prison  cells 
his  work  begins.  Then  there  is  less  time  for  preening,  and 
singing  must  be  given  up  almost  entirely.  From  morning 
until  night  both  parents  are  obliged  to  toil  constantly  to 
feed  the  hungry  nestlings. 

Many  of  the  worms  and  insects  which  robins  eat  are 
harmful  to  growing  grain  and  fruit.  So  it  comes  about 
that  these  birds  perform  no  small  part  in  keeping  down 
the  number  of  such  pests.  Each  day  a  young  robin  re- 
quires more  than  its  own  weight  of  this  kind  of  food. 
Think  what  good  a  family  of  them  must  do  in  a  garden  in 
summer ! 

The  nest  is  usually  built  in  a  bush  or  tree  near  the  abode 
of  man,  although  at  times  it  may  be  found  to  occupy  a 
suitable  place  far  from  any  house,  even  deep  in  the  woods. 
Shade  trees  in  lawns,  or  fruit  trees  in  gardens,  are  favorite 
sites. 

Last  spring  a  pair  of  robins  built  their  nest  on  the  bough 
of  a  balsam  standing  beside  a  much  used  walk  on  our 
college  campus.  In  gathering  the  timbers  for  the  home  the 
greatest  care  was  always  exercised  to  work  at  those  hours 
of  the  day  when  there  was  the  least  chance  of  being  ob- 


38  STORIES  OF   BIRD  LIFE 

served.  Thus  the  greater  part  of  the  construction  of  the 
nest  was  carried  forward  in  the  early  morning  while  few 
people  were  astir.  Seldom  would  any  work  be  done  from 
the  breakfast  hour  until  after  students  ceased  to  cross  the 
campus  in  numbers,  which  was  about  nine  o'clock.  Then 
for  an  hour  or  more  the  building  was  rushed.  Only  during 
the  last  few  days  of  its  construction  did  I  detect  them 
working  during  an  afternoon.  The  morning  was,  of  all 
the  day,  the  favorite  time  for  nest  making.  Perhaps  one 
reason  for  this  was  that  blades  of  dead  grass,  straw  and 
other  nesting  stuff  were  then  damp  and  pliable,  owing  to 
the  night  dews,  and  were  much  more  easily  woven  into 
position  than  after  they  had  become  dry  and  hard. 

In  a  little  pool  at  the  end  of  a  leaky  horse  trough,  the 
birds  gathered  the  mud  needed  to  daub  their  nest  and 
carried  it  home  in  their  bills.  In  dry  seasons  when  suitable 
mud  is  difficult  to  find,  robins  have  been  known  to  carry 
water  in  their  beaks  to  a  road  and  there  mix  the  mud  for 
themselves. 

On  the  18th  of  April  the  nest  appeared  to  be  completed, 
for  no  more  materials  were  brought.  On  the  22nd  the 
female  began  sitting.  I  could  see  her  tail  extending  over 
one  side  of  the  nest,  and  her  bill  pointing  upward  at  a 
sharp  angle  from  the  other.  She  flew  off  the  first  day, 
when  the  half  hundred  young  men  who  frequented  that 


KOBIN  REDBREAST  39 

walk  came  along  on  their  way  to  meals.  But  she  soon 
became  accustomed  to  them,  and  would  sit  quietly,  although 
numerous  heads  passed  within  five  or  six  feet.  No  one 
disturbed  the  bird  nor  the  nest  with  its  four  blue  eggs, 
and  on  May  6th  I  saw  her  feeding  the  young.  Thus  about 
two  weeks  had  been  required  for  thg  eggs  to  hatch.  Four- 
days  after  this  event,  while  standing  on  the  walk,  I  noticed 
the  heads  of  the  young- 
sters bobbing  above  the 
nest.  They  were  gain- 
ing  strength  rapidly. 

The  morning  of  May 
17th  was  cool  and 
rainy.  A  drizzling  rain 
had  been  falling  for 

some     hours.      This 

i  •          i 

dreary    morning    hap- 

pened  to  come  on  the 

day  when  the  young  robins  desired  to  leave  the  nest.  Rain 
could  not  dampen  their  desire,  nor  check  their  plans.  At 
seven  o'clock  three  of  them  were  found  sitting  motionless 
a  foot  or  more  from  the  nest  on  the  limb  which  held  it.  I 
watched  them  for  fifteen  minutes  but  they  scarcely  moved 
during  that  time,  and  only  when  I  at  length  approached, 
them  did  they  take  notice  of  me.  Each  had  gathered  him- 


40  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

self  into  as  small  a  space  as  possible  and  with  head  drawn 
down  close  seemed  waiting  for  something  to  happen.  But 
their  eyes  were  bright  as  they  looked  out  over  the  vast 
expanse  of  the  lawn  before  them — that  trackless  region,  to 
compass  which  they  dared  not  yet  trust  their  strength.  The 
other  one  could  not  be  found. 

The  old  birds  were  making  no  alarm,  in  fact  they  were 
not  even  in  sight,  nor  have  I  ever  seen  them  since  to  my 
knowledge.  Neither  during  incubation  nor  while  the  young 
were  being  fed  had  they  ever  been  noisy  about  the  nest. 
They  approached  and  left  it  always  in  the  most  quiet  man- 
ner. When  the  male  sang  he  was  ever  at  a  sufficient  dis- 
tance not  to  attract  attention  to  the  home  in  the  balsam. 

After  the  family  had  once  deserted  the  nest  there  was  no 
hope  of  their  ever  returning.  So,  in  order  to  examine  it 
more  closely,  I  removed  it  from  the  limb ;  I  wanted  to  see 
how  all  that  wonderful  structure  was  put  together.  This 
is  what  I  found:  In  its  building  a  framework  of  slender 
balsam  twigs  had  first  been  used.  There  were  sixty- 
three  of  these,  some  of  which  were  as  much  as  a  foot  in 
length.  They  served  as  the  sills  and  studding  of  the  house. 
Intertwined  with  them  were  twenty  fragments  of  weed 
stalks  and  large  grass  stems.  The  red  clay  cup,  the  plaster- 
ing of  the  house,  which  came  next  inside,  varied  in  thick- 


ROBIN  REDBREAST  41 

ness  from  a  quarter  of  an  inch  at  the  rim  to  an  inch  at  the 
bottom.  Grass  worked  in  with  the  clay  while  it  was  yet 
soft  aided  in  holding  the  mud  cup  together.  And  now  last 
of  all  came  the  smooth  dry  carpet  of  fine  grass.  The  whole 
structure  measured  eight  inches  across  the  top.  Inside  it 
wasxthree  inches  in  width  and  one  and  a  half  in  depth. 
It  was  one  of  those  wonderful  objects  which  were  made  for 
a  purpose,  and  had  served  that  purpose  well. 

For  some  time  it  has  been  known  that  robins  congre- 
gate in  numbers  to  spend  the  night.  Mr.  Bradford  Torrey 
has  told  us  of  a  large  roost  in  New  England.  The  place 
was  used  only  during  summer  after  the  young  of  the  first 
brood  were  old  enough  to  be  upon  the  wing  and  fly  thither 
with  the  adult  males.  The  females  at  this  time  were  busy 
hatching  their  second  nest  of  eggs.  A  swampy  woodland 
was  the  spot  selected,  and  here  the  birds  assembled  each 
night  during  the  months  from  June  to  October.  As  he 
watched  them  entering  the  woods  in  the  evening,  he  often 
counted  more  than  a  thousand  coming  to  the  roost  from  one 
direction. 

A  winter  roost  far  more  remarkable  for  numbers  than 
this  has  been  described  to  me  by  a  gentleman  who  lived 
near  it  in  his  youth.  It  was  situated  in  what  is  locally 
known  as  a  "  cedar  glade, "  near  Fosterville,  Bedford 
county,  Tennessee.  The  land  there  is  swampy.  Lime- 


[42] 


KOBIN  REDBKEAST  43 

stone  outcrops  on  the  surface,  and  the  soil  thus  long  escap- 
ing drainage  and  the  plow,  gave  opportunity  for  a  vast 
growth  of  cedar  trees.  This  entire  tract  covered  an  area 
perhaps  thirty  by  forty  miles.  In  all  this  cedar  country, 
robins  came  in  immense  numbers  during  the  winter  months 
to  feed  on  the  cedar  berries. 

"By  the  middle  of  a  winter's  afternoon, "  said  my 
friend,  "the  robins  would  begin  coming  by  our  house  in 
enormous  flocks,  which  would  follow  one  another  like  great 
waves  moving  on  in  the  direction  of  the  roost.  They  would 
continue  to  pass  until  night.  We  lived  fifteen  miles  from 
the  roost,  and  it  was  a  matter  of  common  observation  that 
the  birds  came  in  this  manner  from  all  quarters. 

' '  The  spot  which  the  roost  occupied  was  not  unlike  num- 
bers of  others  that  might  have  been  selected.  The  trees 
here  grew  to  a  height  of  from  five  to  thirty  feet,  and  for  a 
mile  square  were  literally  loaded  at  night  with  robins. 
Hunting  them  while  they  roosted  was  a  favorite  sport. 
A  man  would  climb  a  cedar  tree  with  a  torch  while  his 
companions  with  poles  and  clubs  would  disturb  the  sleep- 
ing hundreds  on  the  adjacent  trees.  Blinded  by  the  light, 
the  suddenly  awakened  birds  would  fly  to  the  torch  bearer, 
who,  as  he  seized  each  bird,  would  quickly  pull  off  its  head, 
and  drop  the  bird  into  a  sack  suspended  from  his  shoulder. 

"The  capture  of  three  or  four  hundred  birds  was  an 


44  STOEIES  OF  BIKD  LIFE 

ordinary  night's  work.  Men  and  boys  would  come  in 
wagons  from  all  the  adjoining  counties  and  camp  near  the 
roost  for  the  purpose  of  killing  robins.  Many  times  one 
hundred  or  more  hunters  with  torches  and  clubs  would  be 
at  work  in  a  single  night. ' ' 

For  three  years  this  tremendous  slaughter  continued 
each  winter.  Then  the  birds  deserted  the  roost.  This 
desertion  has  been  attributed  by  Professor  Claxton,  whose 
account  of  the  roost  has  just  been  given,  to  three  possible 
causes.  First,  the  constant  and  wholesale  killing  of  their 
numbers;  second,  the  failure  of  the  crop  of  cedar  berries; 
and  third,  the  cutting  away  of  much  of  the  growth  which 
formed  their  feeding  grounds.  Whether  the  birds  chose 
some  other  roosting  place  in  common  I  have  been  unable  to 
learn ;  but  the  old  roost  has  not  been  occupied  for  twenty- 
five  years. 

In  many  places  robins  are  considered  game  birds,  and 
during  the  colder  months  are  often  shot  as  they  wander  in 
flocks  about  the  country,  seeking  food.  Once  I  asked  a 
boy  on  the  Carolina  coast  near  Nag's  Head  what  game 
birds  were  to  be  found  there.  "  Ducks,  and  rabbits,  and 
robins,"  he  replied. 

In  the  southern  part  of  their  range  these  birds  do  not 
pass  the  spring  and  summer,  so  their  song  is  unknown  to 
many.  In  fact,  the  birds  here  are  not  always  looked  upon 


BOBIN  BEDBBEAST 


45 


with  the  greatest  favor.  In  reckless,  rollicking  bands  they 
feed  about  in  the  pine  woods,  shouting  to  each  other  in 
loud  shrill  voices.  They  come  into  the  towns  and  dissipate 
dreadfully.  A  common  shade  tree  growing  in  Southern 
lawns  and  along  the  streets  is  the  china  tree.  The  juice  of 
its  half  dried  berries  in  winter  often  has  the  effect  of  mak- 
ing the  consumers  tipsy.  Tourists  are  sometimes  shocked 
to  see  their  dear 
robin  friends  from 
the  North  actually 
drunk  and  with 
soiled  feathers  and 
uncouth  manners 
floundering  in  the 
mud.  While  in  this 
condition,  dangers 
swift  and  terrible 
lurk  for  their  destruction. 

Once  I  came  upon  an  interesting  flock  of  robins  feeding 
in  the  edge  of  a  wood.  Several  were  in  a  large  china 
tree  taking  their  fill  of  the  dangerous  berries.  Judging 
from  the  din  and  clamor  the  intoxicating  juice  was  already 
taking  effect.  One  bird  in  particular  had  "lost  his  head. ' ' 
He  sat  on  a  stump  with  ruffled  feathers  and  drooping 
wings,  calling  continually.  Now  and  then  he  whirled  with 


46  STOKIES  O7  BIRD  LIFE 

a  flourish  of  Ms  wings  as  if  striking  at  an  imaginary  antag- 
onist. He  would  wave  his  wings  and  strike  and  scream  as 
though  tormented  by  some  woodland  imp.  Once  he  flopped 
to  the  ground  and  stood  a  short  time,  his  tail  all  jammed 
upward  behind  him  where  it  had  struck  a  bunch  of  grass 
when  he  lit.  In  his  endeavors  to  regain  the  top  of  the 
stump  the  giddiness  in  his  head  was  evident,  for  twice  he 
fell  back.  At  the  third  attempt  he  succeeded  in  grasping 
the  side  of  the  stump,  and  there  hung  for  some  time  waving 
his  wings  about,  and  shouting  wildly  as  if  for  help. 

Scarcely  had  he  regained  the  top  when  a  sharp  note  of 
danger  sent  the  flock  rushing  pell  mell  for  shelter,— all 
but  the  one  on  the  stump.  He  paid  no  heed.  Like  a  flash 
a  sharp-shinned  hawk  shot  out  of  the  woods  straight  for 
the  luckless  redbreast.  Now  he  seemed  vaguely  to  realize 
his  danger.  Eising  almost  straight  in  the  air  he  suddenly 
bore  off  to  the  right,  barely  missing  a  pine  as  he  did  so. 
Twenty  feet  farther  and,  slap,  a  foot  of  the  hawk  struck 
home  and  the  fluttering  robin  was  borne  away.  The  squall- 
ing victim  fluttered  desperately  and  within  fifty  yards 
escaped.  The  hawk,  seeing  me  running  forward  with  much 
noise  and  many  flourishes,  hastily  took  himself  off. 

Picking  up  the  robin  I  found  his  captor  had  but  grasped 
his  tail.  This  hold  had  proven  ineffectual  and  by  dint  of 
much  tugging  the  robin  had  escaped,  although  leaving 


ROBIN  REDBREAST  47 

behind  every  tail  feather  he  had  originally  possessed.  He 
seemed  somewhat  sobered  by  this  time  and  was  not  at  all 
inclined  to  comment  on  the  affair.  When  I  left  him  ten 
minutes  later  standing  uneasily  amid  the  long  wire  grass 
of  the  woods,  he  was  very  quiet,  and  no  sound  escaped  his 
bill  so  long  as  I  was  within  hearing. 

THOUGHT  QUESTIONS. 

At  what  times  of  year  have  you  seen  the  robin?  When  does  it  sing? 
Does  it  have  more  than  one  song?  What  is  the  color  of  a  robin's  egg? 
Does  a  robin  hop,  or  walk  when  on  the  ground?  Do  robins  fight  each 
other?  How  many  times  during  a  day  have  you  heard  one  sing?  Does 
the  robin  feed  his  mate  while  she  is  sitting?  Can  a  young  one  fly  as 
soon  as  it  leaves  the  nest?  Does  a  robin  get  its  food  mostly  on  the  ground 
or  in  trees?  Should  robins  ever  be  killed? 


[48J 


AN  OLD  BARRED  OWL 


O  one  knew  exactly 
how  old  he  was,  but 
there  was  an  idea 
prevalent  in  the 
neighborhood  that 
'  '  the  big  swamp 
owl"  which  lived  in 
the  woods  down 
along  the  bottom 
land  had  been  en- 
joying the  pleasures  of 
life  for  fully  ten  years. 
He  bore  a  bad  reputation 
and  was  regarded  as  both 
a  thief  and  a  murderer.  Of  course 
there  were  other  owls  about  and  there 
was  no  absolute  proof  that  this  particular  bird  was  respon- 
sible for  all  the  crimes  which  were  placed  to  his  account. 

The  people  of  the  surrounding  country,  however,  were 
possessed  of  the  strong  conviction  that  this  old  fellow 
deliberately  planned  and  carried  out  his  raids  on  their 

[49] 


50  STOKIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

poultry  yards  whenever  such  an  enterprise  seemed  good 
to  him,  and  that  he  alone  of  all  the  owls  was  guilty  of  such 
deeds.  Whenever  the  midnight  air  was  rent  by  the  agon- 
ized cry  of  a  fowl  from  the  direction  of  the  henhouse,  the 
infuriated  farmer  would  spring  from  his  bed  and  rush  out, 
gun  in  hand,  vowing  the  most  dreadful  vengeance  on  ' '  that 
old  swamp  owl." 

There  was  no  chicken,  guinea  or  turkey  in  the  whole 
region  that  lost  its  life  by  night,  or  failed  to  return  after  a 
day  spent  afield,  that  its  disappearance  was  not  regarded 
as  due  to  this  bird's  inroads.  Consequently  he  was  hated 
and  dreaded  by  all  the  chicken  raisers  of  the  region,  and 
angry  farmers  on  more  than  one  occasion,  at  the  solicita- 
tions of  their  wives,  made  expeditions  into  the  bottom 
land  woods  to  hunt  out  and  kill  this  great  source  of  annoy- 
ance. Such  efforts  were  always  futile,  although  charges 
of  lead  were  often  shot  into  the  opening  of  the  large  cavity 
in  the  big  hickory  where  he  was  supposed  to  pass  the  day. 

The  view  of  the  matter  from  the  owl 's  standpoint  was  a 
little  different.  True,  he  visited  a  henroost  once  in  a  great 
while  and  took  a  half  grown  chicKen,  as  did  also  his  mate. 
The  great  horned  owl  which  lived  over  in  the  big  pine 
woods  and  sometimes  on  rainy  days  called  "who-o,  who-o, 
ivho-o"  across  the  fields  to  them  was  likewise  not  free  from 
guilt.  He  too  would  make  an  occasional  night  attack  on 


AN  OLD  BARRED  OWL  51 

some  sleeping  hen  and  carry  her  off  to  his  little  owlets 
in  their  rude  nest  which  had  been  used  and  abandoned  by 
a  hawk  the  year  before.  Minks,  foxes,  coons,  opossums 
and  skunks  also  knew  the  flavor  of  the  flesh  of  the  barn- 
yard fowl.  Why,  then,  unless  one  of  these  intruders  was 
actually  caught  in  the  act,  should  he  always  be  given  the 
credit  for  the  outrages  committed  on  the  barnyard? 

Among  the  enemies  with  which  the  farmer  has  to  con- 
tend are  the  rabbits.  They  get  into  his  garden  and  eat  the 
vegetables,  and  gnaw  the  young  fruit  trees  to  a  dangerous 
degree.  The  barred  owls  doubtless  had  no  conscious  desire 
to  render  a  service  to  the  owner  of  the  fields  over  which 
they  hunted,  but  they  did  it  nevertheless  by  the  num- 
ber of  cotton-tails  which  they  annually  destroyed.  It  was 
not  safe  for  a  rabbit  to  expose  itself  in  the  locality  inhab- 
ited by  the  owls.  Many  a  luckless  one  venturing  out  of 
cover  into  the  fields  never  returned,  save  as  borne  aloft 
through  the  air  by  his  arch  enemy;  for,  suddenly  and 
without  warning,  there  would  bear  down  upon  him,  silently 
as  a  shadow,  the  big  gray  bird.  Fearful  pains  would  seize 
his  body  as  the  long  talons  closed  upon  him;  he  would 
catch  the  fierce  glare  of  two  groat  brown  eyes ;  there  would 
be  a  brief  struggle,  and  all  would  be  over. 

The  crawfish  which  had  their  holes  in  the  damp  ground 
along  the  creek  came  out  much  at  night  and  ran  about,  but 


52 


STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 


many  of  them  never  came  back,  for  they  went  to  feed  the 
same  hungry  mouths  which  ate  the  rabbits.  Scores  of 
frogs  on  the  creek  banks  also  lost  their  lives  by  the  same 
terrible  enemy.  A  favorite  article  of  food  with  him  was  the 
flesh  of  the  meadow  mice.  These  creatures  he  captured  in 
great  numbers  about  the  farm.  Grasshopper  steak  was 
also  a  popular  diet  with  him. 

Up  in  the  peach 
orchard  a  little 
screech  owl  had  her 
nest  in  the  cavity  of 
an  old  fruit  tree 
each  spring  for  two 
or  three  years.  She  and  her  mate  would  sometimes  go  to 
the  barn  at  night  and  even  perch  in  the  trees  about  the 
yard  and  call  to  each  other  in  their  strange,  shivering 
tones,  which  caused  the  young  women  in  the  house  to  wish 
that  all  owls  were  dead.  One  autumn  they  were  particu- 
larly noisy,  for  they  had  brought  their  children  from  the 
orchard  and  seemed  to  be  giving  them  lessons  in  owl  music. 
Perhaps  the  big  fellow  from  the  bottom  land,  while  roving 
about  the  fields,  heard  them.  Be  that  as  it  may,  one  morn- 
ing the  feathers  of  a  little  screecher  were  found  scattered 
about  the  lawn,  and  from  the  bark  of  a  large  limb  over  the 
limestone  walk  some  of  them  still  fluttered. 


AN  OLD  BARBED  OWL  53 

The  old  swamp  owl  hunted  and  killed  at  will  about  the 
fields  and  through  the  pine  woods,  but  always  after  the 
shadows  of  night  had  gathered ;  so  the  eyes  were  few  that 
saw  him  come  and  go,  and  no  ear  ever  heard  the  passing 
of  his  silent  wings.  However,  it  will  not  do  to  suppose  for 
a  moment  that  the  farmers  were  the  only  ones  who  gave  the 
owl  a  bad  name.  All  the  small  birds  and  animals  knew 
him,  although  in  most  part  only  by  the  sound  of  his  voice, 
and  they  feared  him  as  they  feared  death. 

In  a  thick  growth  of  young  pine  trees  at  the  far  edge  of 
the  peanut  field  the  crows  collected  one  autumn  to  roost. 
Evening  after  evening  they  came  to  the  grove  in  a  long 
silent  stream  from  their  feeding  pastures  off  to  the  south- 
east. Before  going  to  roost  they  would  circle  about  the 
place  for  a  time  in  a  noisy  throng,  their  black  forms  cross- 
ing and  recrossing  each  other's  trails.  Not  until  the  twi- 
light began  to  thicken  would  they  settle  for  sleep.  One 
clear  starlight  night,  while  returning  across  the  fields  from 
a  long  day's  tramp,  my  course  led  me  near  the  roosting 
place  of  the  crows.  When  just  opposite  the  grove  I  heard 
a  flapping  in  one  of  the  pines,  accompanied  by  two  or  three 
startled,  strangled  "caws."  Something  had  seized  a  crow 
on  its  perch  and  was  coming  with  it  straight  toward  me. 
Not  twenty  feet  overhead  passed  the  big  barred  owl  with 
a  struggling  crow  in  his  claws.  It  required  great  effort  to 


54  STOBIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

carry  his  resisting. booty  and  once  he  came  near  lighting; 
but  he  soon  vanished  in  the  gloom,  going  in  the  direction  of 
the  swamp. 

Next  morning  when  I  awoke  I  heard  a  great  outcry 
among  the  crows.  They  were  flying  excitedly  about  their 
roosting  pines  cawing  and  cawing  with  every  possible 
degree  of  anger  in  their  voices.  They  seemed  to  be  dis- 
cussing something  of  importance,  and  when  a  conclusion 
was  reached  they  at  once  started  to  carry  out  their  plans. 
Over  the  peanut  field  they  streamed,  and  continued  on 
across  the  old  cornfield  where  the  bobwhite  family  was 
taking  its  breakfast.  Straight  to  the  bottom  land  woods 
they  flew,  and  scattering  about  overhead  began  searching 
the  trees  and  bushes,  craning  their  necks  downward  oid 
peering  into  every  place  where  an  owl  could  hide.  The 
clamor  never  ceased  for  a  moment  as  the  search  went  on. 
What  the  signal  was  I  could  not  tell,  but  at  some  word  all 
turned  their  attention  to  a  tall  cedar,  in  which  a  sharp  eye 
had  found  the  object  of  their  quest.  It  was  the  old  owl, 
sitting  on  a  limb  close  to  the  trunk  and  blinking  his  big 
eyes  as  if  in  wonder  at  all  the  unusual  noises  about.  Oh, 
how  they  screamed  at  him !  ' '  Murderer,  murderer, ' '  they 
yelled.  "You  owl,  you  owl— you  eat  folks  raw,  raw,  caw, 
caw,— we  saw,  we  saw,  you  old  outlaw,  outlaw."  They 
reviled  him,  they  told  him  as  plainly  as  if  in  words  which 


AN  OLD  BARRED  OWL  55 

could  be  spelled  that  they  detested  the  very  thought  of 
him. 

After  a  time  the  owl  grew  weary  of  such  nonsense,  and 
flying  suddenly  out  of  the  cedar  swept  close  to  the  earth 
and  sped  away  a  hundred  yards  or  more  to  the  hollow  in 
the  big  hickory,  into  which  he  flew  and  was  hidden  from 
sight.  No  crow  cared  to  go  into  the  hole  after  him  or  even 
to  perch  at  the  opening,  so  after  more  abuse,  in  which  the 
interest  soon  began  to  lag  because  the  tormenters  could  not 
see  the  object  of  their  concern,  they  betook  themselves  to 
their  accustomed  feeding  grounds,  a  very  ill-humored  flock 
of  crows. 

The  barred  owls  were  very  noisy  neighbors,  and  at  times 
were  quite  boisterous.  They  appeared  to  shout  and  laugh 
and  say  many  queer  things  to  each  other,  as  for  instance, 
"wall,  icali;  ha,  ha;  ha,  WHO  AH,"  or  words  to  that  effect. 
One  farmer's  wife  declared  if  ever  her  hired  girl  left,  " that 
night  the  old  swamp  owl  was  sure  to  call,  'Who,  who,  who. 
who  cooks  for  you  all?'  But  in  May,  when  the  three 
white  eggs  in  the  hollow  up  in  the  big  oak  had  hatched,  the 
parents  did  not  often  call,  for  they  were  then  much  occu- 
pied with  feeding  their  offspring. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  the  man  who  owned  the  farm 
on  which  the  owls  lived,  learned  of  a  plan  that  he  thought 
might  rid  him  of  them  forever.  Out  in  the  field  a  hundred 


56  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

yards  from  the  woods  he  planted  a  pole  twelve  feet  high, 
on  which  he  set  and  chained  a  small  steel  trap. 

A  night  or  two  later  while  out  looking  for  meadow  mice 
the  mother  owl  alighted  on  the  pole.  With  a  snap  the  steel 
jaws  came  together,  catching  and  holding  her  fast  in  their 
grasp.  She  was  caught  by  her  three  front  toes,  for  an  owl 
has  two  toes  growing  in  front,  one  growing  out  behind,  and 
one  which  can  be  turned  either  way.  The  trap  with  its  vic- 
tim fell  from  the  pole,  but  the  chain  which  was  fastened 

within  a  foot  of  the  top 
held  securely.  There 
through  the  night  she 
hung  head  downward, 
swaying  in  the  wind  and 
beating  her  wings  against 
the  pole  in  her  vain  efforts  to  escape.  All  night  with  dizzy, 
throbbing  brain  she  swung  and  beat  the  air  and  fought  for 
freedom.  In  the  morning  the  happy  farmer  came  and  put 
an  end  to  her  suffering.  He  reset  the  trap  and  returned 
joyfully  to  the  house  with  the  dead  bird. 

The  caring  for  the  young  now  devolved  entirely  upon 
the  father.  Three  hungry  mouths  to  fill  besides  his  own ! 
What  a  busy  time  he  had  of  it !  How  diligently  he  must 
have  pursued  the  meadow  mice  and  frogs !  But  he  care- 
fully avoided  that  fatal  pole.  One  night  he  decided  to  try 


AN  OLD  BARRED  OWL,  57 

the  poultry  yard  again.  Surely  all  the  destruction  of  mice 
and  rabbits  which  he  had  wrought  must  be  worth  another 
fowl! 

Near  the  chicken  house  some  guineas  were  roosting  in  a 
tree.  Silently  he  swooped  down  upon  one  of  these.  A 
moment  later  both  were  upon  the  ground,  but  before  the 
guinea  had  expired  it  had  given  vent  to  several  heartrend- 
ing screams,  which  had  set  the  whole  roost  to  cackling. 
The  owl  was  on  the  point  of  rising  with  his  prey  when  he 
caught  sight  of  a  man 
near  the  garden  gate. 
There  was  a  flash  and 
the  roar  of  a  gun.  At 
this  he  fled,  badly  fright- 
ened, to  the  woods. 

An  hour  later,  when  all 
was  quiet,  he  returned  to 

the  spot  where  he  had  dropped  his  burden.  For  some  reason 
it  was  under  a  strong  box,  which  was  propped  up  by  some 
sticks.  But  the  babies  in  the  woods  were  hungry ;  so  under 
the  box  he  cautiously  went.  The  guinea  seemed  tied  to  a 
stick.  He  gave  it  a  pull,  when  suddenly  down  came  the 
box,  and  he  was  a  prisoner. 

Great  was  the  rejoicing  in  the  neighborhood  the  next 
morning  when  it  became  known  that  "the  old  swamp  owl" 


58  STOKIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

had  been. captured,  and  many  of  the  neighbors  came  to  see 
him.    A  small  box  slatted  on  two  sides  served  as  his  prison. 

Three  days  later  I  saw  the  feathered  outlaw,  which  was 
still  confined  without  food  or  water.  His  large  wing  and 
tail  feathers  had  been  badly  worn  and  broken  by  beating 
the  prison  bars  in  his  efforts  to  escape,  and  he  must  have 
been  weak  with  fasting.  When  I  took  him  in  my  hands  his 
great  brown  eyes  rolled  and  slowly  winked  in  helpless  de- 
fiance. He  sought  to  reach  me  with  his  dangerous  bill,  and 
his  struggles  for  freedom  were  by  no  means  feeble. 

I  begged  for  his  life,  pleading  that  the  good  which  he 
did  by  destroying  vermin  far  outweighed  in  value  the  few 
chickens  he  had  killed.  But  no,  I  was  told  that  he  had  been 
robbing  henroosts  for  years,  and  had  at  length  been  caught 
red-handed  in  the  act,  and  so  he  must  die.  1 1 1  got  the  hen 
owl  some  time  ago,"  his  captor  said,  "and  now  I've  got 
the  old  he  one,  and  I  reckon  that  will  pretty  well  break  up 
their  chicken  stealing."  So  the  deed  was  done,  and  the 
farmer  congratulated  himself  that  he  had  rid  the  neighbor- 
hood of  one  of  its  greatest  enemies.  Down  in  the  swamp 
the  little  baby  owls  waited  for  their  food  and  wondered 
why  it  never  came. 

Now  the  crawfishes  and  frogs  along  the  creek  have  less  to 
fear,  the  screech  owls  whoop  at  pleasure  in  the  trees  about 
the  house,  the  meadow  mice  scamper  about  the  fields  the 


AN  OLD  BARRED  OWL 


59 


livelong  night,  and  the  rabbits  play  in  the  moonlight  and 
gnaw  the  farmers '  fruit  trees  with  impunity,  for  the  call  of 
the  great  horned  owl  over  in  the  big  pine  woods  across  the 
fields  is  never  answered  from  the  silent  bottom  lands.  The 
old  swamp  owl  is  gone. 

THOUGHT  QUESTIONS 

Which  has  stronger  toes  and  sharper  claws,  an  owl  or  a  turkey?  Can 
an  owl  run  on  the  ground?  When  do  you  hear  owls  call  in  the  woods? 
Do  you  think  owls  do  more  good  than  they  do  harm  ?  Do  barred  owls  have 
ear  tuffs  of  feathers  which  are  called  "horns"  ?  Would  you  have  killed  the 
Old  Swamp  Owl? 


THE  BIRDS  OF  COBB'S  ISLAND,  VIRGINIA 


XTENDING  along  the  coast  of  Virginia  is  a 
series  of  flat  grassy  islands,  many  of  them  so  low  as  to  be 
covered  with  water  at  high  tide.  Among  those  high  enough 
to  be  safe  from  ordinary  overflow  is  Cobb  's  Island,  a  long 
sand  bank  which  at  flood  tide  is  only  a  few  feet  above 
water.  In  the  Autumn  of  1896  this  island  was  partially 
washed  away  during  a  storm.  Previous  to  this  it  was 
seven  miles  in  length,  while  in  width  it  exceeded  scarcely 
an  eighth  of  a  mile.  On  its  eastern  side  the  ocean  broke 
continuously  along  the  entire  length.  Stretching  along  the 
western  shore  for  perhaps  half  the  distance  was  a  marsh. 
Among  the  matted  clusters  of  marsh  gfass  on  this  island 
the  beautiful  laughing  gulls  found  a  summer  home.  In  the 

[60] 


THE  BIKDS  OF  COBB's  ISLAND,  VIRGINIA  61 

spring  of  the  year  they  came  over  the  sea  from  the  South, 
many  scores  in  number,  and  here  built  their  bulky  nests. 
In  order  to  reach  them  I  once  put  on  high  rubber  boots  and 
waded  out  into  the  marsh.  There  was  no  difficulty  in  find- 
ing the  large  piles  of  grass  which  served  as  nests,  situated 
only  a  foot  or  two  above  the  water.  In  each  of  those  ex- 
amined either  two  or  three  large  spotted  eggs  were  found. 
On  my  first  approach  to  the  breeding  grounds  several  of 
the  birds  were  ob- 
served flying  along 
the  beach  just  outside 
the  surf,  but  only  one 
or  two  were  hovering 
over  the  marsh.  How-, 
ever,  annoyed  by  my 
presence  they  soon 
came  flying  about  overhead,  filling  the  air  with  their  cries 
of  distress  and  uneasiness. 

This  summer  gull  is  a  pretty  creature.  Its  head  and  the 
quills  of  its  wings  are  black,  the  neck  and  under  parts 
snowy  white,  and  the  feathers  of  its  back  are  pearl  gray. 
It  has  feet  webbed  suitable  for  swimming,  and  can  ride  at 
will  upon  the  waves  like  a  cork. 

From  the  beach  an  observer  might  regard  the  gulls  as 
the  only  inhabitants  of  the  marsh.  But  let  him  once  start 


62  STOBIES  OF  BIKD  LIFE 

through  it  and  he  will  change  his  mind.  Clapper  rails, 
sometimes  termed  " marsh  hens,"  called  constantly  to  each 
other  from  their  hidden  retreats  in  the  grass.  At  times 
some  of  them  must  have  been  within  a  few  yards  of  where 
I  stood,  but  so  carefully  were  they  concealed  in  their  cov- 
ered runways  beneath  the  grass,  and  so  closely  did  the 


markings  of  their  feathers  resemble  their  surroundings, 
that,  although  a  dozen  of  the  birds  would  often  be  calling 
near  at  one  time,  I  was  unable  to  catch  sight  of  a  single  one. 
A  few  of  their  nests  were  found.  Some  of  these  held  as 
many  as  twelve  spotted  eggs,  although  the  most  of  those 
examined  had  been  deserted  by  the  young. 

The  clapper  rail  is  about  fifteen  inches  in  length,  includ- 


THE  BIRDS  OF  COBB's  ISLAND,  VIRGINIA  63 

ing  its  short  excuse  for  a  tail.  Its  body  is  very  slender, 
which  makes  it  admirably  adapted  for  threading  its  way 
through  the  labyrinthian  pathways  of  its  marshy  haunts. 
Its  legs  are  slim  and  the  bird  is  a  good  runner.  It  can 
also  swim  with  ease.  It  is  a  poor  flyer  and  as  a  result 
seldom  takes  to  wing.  Hunters  sometimes  set  the  marsh 
on  fire  to  start  the  birds  from  cover.  Then  when  they  rise 
and  fly  slowly  along  in  their  awkward  manner  thev  present 
a  target  not  easily  missed  even  by  an  amateur  sportsman. 

Members  of 
the  rail  family 
are  found  in 
many  parts  of 
the  world,  and 
everywhere  they 
are  the  same  ex- 
cellent runners 
and  poor  flyers.  On  the  Mascarene  Islands  there  once 
lived  a  rail  which  stood  seven  feet  high.  Its  feathers 
had  brilliant  hues  and  were  much  sought  by  sailors  who 
chanced  now  and  then  to  land  on  the  islands.  So  the 
natives  hunted  the  birds  far  and  wide  to  get  the  feathers 
for  barter.  Such  a  war  was  waged  that  in  the  end  they 
were  entirely  exterminated.  The  last  one  is  supposed  to 
have  perished  over  two  hundred  years  ago. 


64  STOBIES  OF  BIKD  LIFE 

Cobb's  Island,  at  the  time  of  my  visit  in  June,  was  the 
home  of  many  birds  of  the  sea.  On  a  strip  of  sandy  beach 
well  up  from  the  reach  of  the  waves  the  beautiful  long 
winged  sea  swallows,  or  terns,  had  their  homes.  With 
them  were  also  associated  the  black  skimmers.  These  are 
birds  which,  with  long  knife-like  bills,  skim  their  food  from 
the  waves  as  they  wander  along  the  seacoast.  From  the 
habit  of  coming  close  to  shore  during  bad  weather  they 
are  often  called  by  the  fishermen  ' '  storm  gulls. "  ' '  Shear- 
water "  is  also  a  popular  name  in  some  localities. 

One  of  the  prettiest  sights 
of  the  coast  is  a  tern ;  in  fact, 
no  ocean  view  is  complete 
without  one.  Beautifully 
balancing  on  wings  of  pearl 
he  comes  floating  down  the 
wind  as  lightly  as  a  fragment  of  cloud  might  drift  before 
the  breeze.  In  flight  he  has  the  perfection  of  movement  and 
the  embodiment  of  grace.  What  human  eye  can  mark 
his  course  and  not  feel  the  aesthetic  thrill  that  ever  stirs  the 
mind  when  in  the  presence  of  one  of  Nature's  master- 
pieces? His  bright  eye  catches  the  sunlight  glint  on  the 
scales  of  a  fish  among  the  tossing  waves  and  swift  as  an 
arrow  he  strikes  headlong  into  the  deep.  The  downward 
plunge  is  as  sudden  as  it  is  swift  and  seldom  does  the  bird 
miss  his  mark. 


THE  BIRDS  OF  COBB^S  ISLAND,  VIRGINIA  65 

Sea  birds  are  possessed  of  great  curiosity  regarding  any 
strange  object  they  may  chance  upon  in  their  wanderings. 
I  have  seen  gulls  hover  and  scream  for  half  an  hour  over 
an  old  basket  awash  in  the  surf.  Half  way  along  the  ocean 
side  of  Cobb's  Island  lay  a  broken  fishing  boat  where  it 
had  been  carried  and  left  by  .some  high  tide.  The  long 
brown  roll  of  dried  sea  weed  extending  along  the  beach 
and  marking  the  high  water  line  crossed  the  spot  where 
the  boat  lay  and  partially  filled  it. 

I  climbed  into  this  boat  one  afternoon  and  lay  down  on 
my  back  to  see  what  the  birds  would  have  to  say  when  they 
saw  me.  Within  five  minutes  I  heard  a  dry  high-pitched 
squeak  and,  moving  my  hat  slightly,  saw  a  tern  thirty  or 
forty  feet  above  looking  down  at  me.  How  his  little  yellow 
eyes  did  glisten  with  curiosity!  In  another  moment  he 
fell  off  before  the  wind,  but  soon  came  bacK,  slowly  balanc- 
ing along  against  the  breeze.  Again  and  again  his  squeaky 
cry  was  uttered.  Then  another  tern  appeared,  and  soon  a 
gull  joined  them.  Within  fifteen  minutes  a  dozen  gulls 
and  more  than  one  hundred  terns  were  flying  about,  all 
making  a  great  outcry  at  the  strange  figure  in  the  boat. 
Any  movement  on  my  part  was  a  signal  for  a  louder  out- 
burst of  sounds  as  the  birds  rose  higher  or  hurried  away 
only  to  return  a  minute  later  to  hover  and  stare  and  scream 
as  before.  Not  until  I  arose  and  walked  away  were  they 


66  STOKIES  OF  BIED  LIFE 

satisfied  to  leave  the  spot  where  had  lain  the  strange 
creature  which  had  excited  them  so  much. 

Many  observers  agree  that  twenty  years  ago  countless 
thousands  of  terns  annually  gathered  at  Cobb's  Island  to 
lay  and  hatch  their  eggs.  Fishermen  told  me  that  bushels 
of  eggs  could  then  be  gathered  in  a  few  hours'  search,  and 
that  it  was  almost  impossible  to  walk  along  the  beach  with- 
out crushing  them.  People  frequently  visited  the  island 
to  gather  eggs  to  eat.  While  thus  engaged  the  birds  would 
flock  about  the  heads  of  the  intruders  with  deafening  cries, 
trying  to  drive  them  from  the  beach. 

If  one  of  the  birds  was  shot  and  disabled,  dozens  of 
others  would  gather  about  the  unfortunate  comrade  with 
loud  notes  of  distress.  Nor  would  they  be  frightened  away 
by  the  repeated  discharges  of  the  guns,  but  would  continue 
to  fly  excitedly  about  while  one  by  one  they  fell  bleeding  to 
the  ground. 

So  easily  may  terns  be  killed  during  the  nesting  season, 
and  so  pretty  are  the  silver-gray  feathers  of  their  wings, 
that  milliners  learned  that  here  was  a  profitable  field  for 
investment.  Accordingly  hunters  were  employed  to  go  to 
the  nesting  places  and  shoot  the  birds.  The  skins  were 
shipped  to  the  great  cities  and  there  made  into  trimmings 
for  ladies'  hats.  Ten  thousand  skins  were  gathered  at 
Oobb  's  Island  in  a  single  season.  All  along  the  coast  from 


THE  BIRDS  OF  COBB's  ISLAND,  VIRGINIA  67 

Maine  to  Florida  and  around  the  shores  of  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico  as  far  as  Texas  the  hunting  was  carried  on. 

Expeditions  were  fitted  out  each  summer  for  collecting 
the  birds.  Hunters  would  take  a  sailing  vessel,  provide 
food  and  ammunition  in  sufficient  amounts  to  last  them 
for  several  weeks,  and  setting  sail  would  cruise  from 
island  to  island  in  search  of  the  birds.  Upon  reaching  a 
beach  inhabited  by  terns  the  vessel  would  be  brought  to 
anchor,  and  here  the  crew  would  stay  shooting  and  skin- 
ning as  long  as  the  occupation  continued  profitable,  which 
was  usually  until  the  birds  were  all  dead  or  driven  away. 

By  1890  the  numbers  of  the  terns  along  the  Atlantic 
coast  of  the  Southern  States  had  become  so  depleted  that 
many  of  the  annual  expeditions  of.  the  feather  gatherers 
were  discontinued.  Individual  hunters  here  and  there 
still  seek  out  the  few  remaining  breeding  places  of  the  sea 
swallows  and  keep  up  the  work  of  extermination. 

One  day  I  stood  upon  the  deck  of  a  two-masted  sharpie 
lying  at  anchor  in  Bogue  Sound  on  the  North  Carolina 
coast.  I  was  talking  to  an  old  man  whose  long  thin  hair 
fell  in  waves  on  his  shoulders.  He  was  a  professional 
bird  hunter  and  in  the  captain's  cabin  near  which  we  stood 
had,  with  a  companion,  skinned  many  thousands  of  sea 
birds.  "I  have  hunted  the  terns  in  their  nesting  places,7' 
he  said,  "from  New  England  southward  to  the  West 


68  STOKIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

Indies,  and  I  do  not  believe  there  is  a  rookery  in  all  this 
line  of  coast  that  I  have  not  repeatedly  visited. ' '  He  had 
shipped,  he  told  me,  more  than  one  hundred  thousand 
skins. 

One  of  the  most  attractive  of  the  tern  family  is  the  small 
variety  known  as  the  least  tern.  Once  they  lived  by  thou- 
sands along  our  coast,  but  now  the  birds  are  rarely  seen. 
I  asked  the  old  feather  hunter  where  these  might  be  found 
nesting,  and  he  replied,  "I  doubt  if  there  will  be  a  least 
tern's  egg  laid  this  summer  within  two  hundred  miles  of 
here." 

Before  me  stood  an  old  man  whose  eyes  had  become 
dim  through  a  life  spent  in  contending  with  waves,  and 
wandering  over  the  blistering  sands  of  summer  beaches. 
He  had  never  been  taught  to  love  and  protect  the  birds,  and 
by  killing  them  he  had  seen  a  chance  to  win  his  bread.  Is 
he  the  one  to  blame  for  the  death  of  the  terns  ? 

The  destruction  of  so  many  sea  birds  at  length  drew 
public  attention,  and  several  States,  now  when  it  was 
almost  too  late,  passed  laws  for  their  protection.  On  some 
of  the  islands  along  the  New  England  coast  inhabited  by 
terns,  wardens  are  stationed  whose  business  it  is  to  keep 
off  intruders.  Thus  protected  the  birds  in  a  few  places 
are  once  more  increasing  in  numbers.  Societies  for  the 
protection  of  birds  have  been  formed  in  many  parts  of  the 


THE  BIRDS  OF  COBB^S  ISLAND,  VIRGINIA  69 

country  and  their  efforts  to  arouse  interest  in  bird  study 
and  prevent  the  wearing  of  bird  feathers  have  met  with 
much  success. 

But  these  movements  came  too  late  to  save  the  terns  of 
Cobb  's  Island.  Almost  as  if  by  magic  the  vast  rookery  was 
destroyed,  and  as  though  Nature  wished  to  forget  the 
scene  of  such  bloodshed  and  suffering,  the  storm  king- 
roared  down  upon  its  beaches  one  autumn,  and  now  noth- 
ing is  left  but  a  mere  strip  of  sand  barely  half  a  mile  in 
length. 

THOUGHT  QUESTIONS 

Were  you  ever  on  the  seashore;  if  so,  what  birds  did  you  see?  Were 
you  ever  in  a  marsh;  if  so,  what  birds  did  you  see  there?  Why  do  rails 
not  live  on  the  open  ground  instead  of  keeping  hidden  away  in  the  tall 
grass  ?  Do  you  think  terns  and  gulls  should  be  killed  for  their  feathers  ? 


[70] 


A  PAIR  OF  EAGLES 


N  a  thick  damp  wood  near  a 
lake  in  Levy  county,  Flor- 
ida, stands  a  tall  pine  tree 
which  for  fifteen  years  has 
held  a  nest  of  the  bald 
eagle.  For  ninety-one  feet 
the  great  pine  raises  its 
slender  trunk  without  a 
branch.  Thirty  feet  higher 
is  the  nest  in  the  main  fork 
of  the  tree,  which  here 
sends  out  three  limbs. 

The  structure  is  a  large 
one.  Year  after  year  it 
has  been  used,  and  the  birds  each 
season,  in  repairing  the  damages  sus- 
tained during  the  months  when  it  was 
unoccupied,  have  added  material  un- 
til it  has  become  more  than  four  feet  in  thickness.  In  width 
it  is  likewise  about  four  feet.  Some  of  the  sticks  used 
extend  outward  at  the  sides,  making  the  diameter  of  the 
nest,  if  these  be  included,  fully  six  feet.  The  material  of 

[71] 


72  STORIES  OF   BIRD  LIFE 

which  it  is  made  consists  largely  of  dead  twigs  and  small 
pine  branches.  These  usually  have  the  bark  still  adhering. 
Some  are  only  a  few  inches  in  length,  while  others  are  two 
feet  long.  The  largest  stick  I  have  seen  in  the  nest  was 
three  and  one-half  feet  in  length,  and  measured  at  its  great- 
est circumference  nearly  four  inches.  The  structure  is 
slightly  basin  shaped  on  top,  the  depression  in  the  center 
being  about  four  inches  deep.  This  I  once  found  lined 
with  dry  moss  which  the  birds  had  gathered  by  the  lake 
shore  when  the  water  was  low. 

Such  is  the  domicile  of  a  pair  of  shrewd  old  eagles  that 
have  long  been  a  terror  to  the  wild  ducks  which  in  winter 
gather  on  the  neighboring  lake,  and  a  source  of  continual 
annoyance  to  the  sheep  raisers  of  the  surrounding  country 
in  summer.  Their  careers  would  long  ago  have  been  cut 
short  if  the  plans  of  any  of  the  numerous  hunting  expedi- 
tions against  them  could  have  been  successfully  carried 
out.  Poison  has  been  repeatedly  set,  and  scores  of  rifle 
balls  have  sung  their  way  through  the  forest  or  across  the 
lake  to  strike  out  the  lives  of  these  troublesome  enemies. 
But  the  bald  eagles  lived  on  unharmed. 

Exasperated  at  the  number  of  lambs  carried  out  of  his 
pasture  one  year  by  these  birds,  the  owner  vowed  that  he 
would  never  know  happiness  again  until  he  had  killed  at 
least  one  of  the  robbers.  But  no  opportunity  came  to  him 


A  PAIK  OF  EAGLES  73 

that  summer  for  carrying  out  his  threat.  If  he  caught 
sight  of  one  of  them  it  was  either  when  his  gun  was  not 
at  hand,  or  the  bird  was  too  far  away.  During  the  winter 
when  the  birds  repaired  to  their  nest  to  rear  their  young, 
the  sheep  raiser  thought  the  time  for  their  destruction  had 
arrived.  Waiting  until  he  knew  the  eggs  had  been  laid, 
he  took  his  gun,  loaded  it  with  heavy  shot,  and  secreted 
himself  one  morning  near  the  big  pine  in  the  swamp.  He 
meant  to  kill  the  old  birds  as  they  approached  or  left  the 
nest. 

When  he  arrived  there  was  no  sign  of  life  about  the  big 
dark  structure  high  in  the  tree.  Hour  after  hour  went  by 
but  no  eagle  appeared.  Not  until  eleven  o'clock  was  his 
watchfulness  rewarded.  Then  before  he  was  aware  of  its 
approach  the  home  coming  eagle  had  wheeled  and  was  off 
in  a  twinkling  out  of  gun  shot.  He  sent  three  ounces  of 
lead  whizzing  after  it,  then  gave  up  the  attempt  and  went 
home. 

The  next  morning  found  the  hunter  again  in  the  eagle 
haunted  woods  near  the  lake.  He  made  himself  com- 
fortable on  a  bed  of  long  moss  which  he  pulled  from  the 
trees.  From  his  position  he  had  a  commanding  view  of  the 
nest  and  a  clear  field  in  which  to  aim.  He  propped  up  the 
muzzle  of  his  gun  with  a  forked  stick  which  he  stuck  in  the 
ground,  that  the  weapon  might  be  more  convenient  to  fire 


74 


STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 


at  the  right  moment.  He  had  brought  food  and  water 
and  meant  to  stay  until  one  of  the  yellow  eyed  birds  with 
big  claws  should  lie  dead  at  his  feet. 

A  cold  drizzling  rain  set  in,  but  the  hunter  was  plucky. 
He  pulled  down  more  moss  and  drew  it  as  a  covering  over 

his  legs  and  body,  and 
waited.  Day  dawned, 
and  the  dull  yellow  spot 
which  indicated  through 
the  clouds  the  presence 
of  the  sun  crept  slowly 
upward  through  the  sky. 
Cold  and  dreary  and 
damp  was  the  lonely 
forest,  but  the  man  with 
a  purpose  staid  on.  It 
was  twelve  o'clock  before  .the  rain  ceased.  Soon  afterward 
with  a  spring  the  eagle  left  the  nest,  and  dodging  quickly 
behind  it  sped  away.  Firing  harmlessly  into  the  air  the 
discouraged  farmer  shouldered  his  empty  gun  and  de- 
parted, nor  tried  again  that  yea?  to  kill  the  eagles  at  their 
nest. 

Desiring  to  examine  the  nest  more  closely  than  could  be 
done  with  an  opera  glass,  I  determined  to  climb  the  tree. 
This  I  accomplished  on  January  twentieth  in  the  following 
manner :  Taking  a  narrow  board  three  feet  long,  I  nailed 


A  PAIK  OF  EAGLES  75 

it  crosswise  to  the  tree  about  five  feet  from  the  ground. 
Clambering  upon  this  board  by  the  aid  of  climbing  irons 
strapped  to  my  feet,  I  stood  and  nailed  another  cleat  in 
like  manner  five  feet  above  the  first.  A  rope  thrown  over 
one  shoulder  and  tied  around  the  tree  aided  me  in  holding 
my  position  as  I  nailed.  The  strips  of  wood  were  drawn 
up  with  a  cord  as  they  were  used,  my  companion  on  the 
ground  setting  the  nails  in  each  beforehand. 

By  this  slow  method  I  reached  the  nest  at  the  end  of  an 
hour  and  a  half.  Being  on  the  underside,  however,  was  by 
no  means  equivalent  to  being  in  a  position  to  see  into  the 
nest.  Above  my  head  was  a  cart  load  of  sticks  and  rotting 
twigs  which  had  yet  to  be  passed.  In  order  to  climb  up  one 
of  the  large  limbs  against  which  the  nest  rested  I  was 
obliged  to  tear  away  several  armfuls  of  the  material.  The 
dust  from  the  decaying  wood  showered  continually  upon 
me  as  I  worked,  getting  into  my  eyes,  ears  and  hair.  As 
I  proceeded  slowly  upward,  layer  after  layer  of  decaying 
twigs  and  green  stained  fish  bones  were  uncovered,  show- 
ing where  the  floor  of  each  season's  nursery  had  been. 

At  length  I  raised  my  head  above  the  level  of  the  nest 
and  beheld  lying  flat  upon  their  breasts  two  eaglets.  They 
were  near  the  size  of  half  grown  chickens,  and  had  bodies 
covered  with  whitish  down.  They  offered  no  resistance  to 


76  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

my  handling,  nor  was  there  any  outburst  of  complaint,  a 
low  whistling  cry  being  their  only  sound. 

Soon  after  I  began  the  ascent  the  old  birds  appeared, 
and,  as  long  as  I  remained  in  the  tree,  continued  to  soar 
anxiously  about  at  a  safe  distance,  occasionally  uttering  a 
high-pitched  scream,  which  was  a  sort  of  whistling  cackle. 
Only  once  was  there  any  appearance  of  an  attack  from 
them.  The  larger  one,  which  I  thus  judged  to  be  the 
female,  while  flying  at  a  distance  of  perhaps  one  hundred 
yards,  and  at  an  equal  elevation  with  myself,  suddenly 
changed  her  course  and  with  set  wings  came  at  me  straight 
as  an  arrow.  With  raised  hatchet  I  awaited  the  assault, 
but  when  within  thirty  feet  her  courage  failed  and  she 
turned  sharply  to  one  side  and  passed  on. 

I  had  hoped  to  find  eggs,  and  determined  to  be  at  the 
nest  on  time  for  this  another  season.  The  next  year,  the 
weather  being  stormy,  I  was  delayed  until  the  fourteenth 
of  the  same  month  when  the  nest  was  again  found  to  con- 
tain young.  This  time  they  were  larger  than  those  of  the 
year  previous.  From  tip  to  tip  of  wings  they  measured 
three  and  one-half  feet.  The  eggs  must  have  been  de- 
posited as  early  as  November. 

During  the  months  of  autumn,  especially  October  and 
November,  the  Florida  eagles  become  restless  and  wander 
from  their  accustomed  range.  This  is  their  love  season 


A  PAIR  OF   EAGLES  77 

and  they  will  chase  each  other  for  long  distances  about  the 
country.  One  November  day  I  heard  a  loud  roaring  over- 
head, and  looking  up  saw  an  eagle  at  a  height  of  some  fifty 
yards  darting  swiftly  toward  the  earth.  The  rush  of  air 
through  its  half  closed  wings  caused  the  whirring  sound. 
A  short  distance  above  came  another  eagle  in  hot  pursuit, 
nor  was  the  speed  checked  until  within  fifty  feet  of  where 
T  stood,  when  with  graceful  curves  the  birds  again  soared 
aloft  and  the  chase  continued  across  the  fields  and  over  the 
woods  beyond.  This  happened  seventeen  miles  from  the 
nearest  nest  and  the  birds  were  going  in  a  direction  which 
would  lead  them  directly  away  from  it. 

Hunters  have  told  me  of  eagles  which  they  have  seen  at 
many  times  this  distance  from  their  nest.  But  when  we 
stop  to  consider  that  this  majestic  bird  can,  with  its  power- 
ful wings,  easily  cover  a  distance  of  sixty,  or  eighty,  or 
even  one  hundred  miles  an  hour,  these  autumn  wanderings 
do  not  seem  very  extensive. 

The  feathers  of  the  adult  bird  are  dark  brown,  except  the 
head,  neck  and  tail,  which  are  white.  On  account  of  the 
white  appearance  of  the  head,  so  different  from  the  back 
and  wings,  the  bird  at  a  distance  might  be  thought  to  have 
a  head  destitute  of  feathers.  Hence  possibly  came  the 
name  by  which  it  is  usually  known— the  bald  eagle.  This 
white  portion  of  the  plumage  does  not  come  until  the  bird 


78  STOKIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

is  over  two  years  old.  An  eagle 's  foot  is  especially  adapted 
to  seizing  and  holding  its  prey.  The  muscles  of  the  leg  are 
so  arranged  that  when  the  weight  of  the  body  is  thrown 
on  the  foot  the  long  sharp  claws  are  driven  deep,  and  once 
they  close  on  a  victim  there  is  no  escape. 

In  mountainous  regions  bald  eagles  often  build  their 
nests  on  cliffs.  In  many  sections  they  are  more  or  less 
destructive  to  lambs  and  young  pigs.  Where  the  supply 
of  fish,  grouse,  squirrels  or  other  natural  prey  is  plentiful, 
domestic  animals  are  seldom  disturbed.  Only  once  have  I 
witnessed  such  a  capture.  An  eagle  carried  off  before  my 
eyes  a  grown  hen  from  a  flock  in  a  neighbor's  barn  yard. 
They  are  especially  fond  of  fish.  These  they  usually  pro- 
cure by  swooping  down  and  snatching  them  from  the  water 
in  their  talons.  It  is  well  known  that  they  sometimes  rob 
the  ospreys  of  the  fish  which  they  have  caught.  There  is, 
therefore,  little  neighborly  love  between  the  eagles  and  fish 
hawks  of  a  community. 

One  day  I  noticed  one  of  the  eagles  sitting  on  a  dead 
pine  near  the  lake.  An  osprey  had  worked  itself  into  a 
great  fury  at  the  sight  of  him  and  with  cries  of  annoyance 
was  constantly  diving  through  the  air  at  its  old  enemy. 
For  some  time  the  eagle  kept  his  perch,  merely  throwing 
up  his  wings  to  avoid  a  blow  when  the  osprey  swooped 
nearest.  After  a  time  he  wearied  of  this  continual  dodging 


A  PAIR  OF  EAGLES  79 

and  flew  to  a  tall  living  pine  a  few  hundred  feet  distant. 
Here  standing  on  a  thick  limb  with  the  pine  boughs  above 
and  about  him,  he  was  free  from  the  possibilities  of  an 
attack. 

Presently  the  psprey  flew  out  over  the  lake  and,  spying 
a  fish  near  the  surface  below,  paused,  while  on  hovering 
wings  it  marked  well  the  spot.  For  full  five  seconds  it 
hung  there  in  the  air,  then  suddenly,  with  a  heavy  splash 
pounced  into  the  lake.  The  water  was  still  foaming  as  the 
bird  came  from  the  surface  and  with  dripping  wings  grad- 
ually raised,  and  started  across  the  lake.  In  its  talons  I 
could  plainly  see  its  finny  victim.  Would  the  eagle  attempt 
to  rob  the  bird  of  its  prey  1  Anxiously  I  waited  to  see,  for 
I  had  often  read  and  heard  of  the  sight.  The  osprey  was 
crossing  the  little  lake  directly  toward  me.  As  I  watched 
the  pine,  there  was  a  sudden  swaying  of  the  boughs  and 
there  full  and  free  to  view  came  the  great  American 
eagle— the  emblem  of  our  national  independence.  With  a 
mighty  spring  it  had  launched  into  the  air  and  its  huge 
wings  were  carrying  it  at  a  tremendous  rate. 

The  osprey  caught  sight  of  the  pursuer  and  its  half 
pitiful  cries  of  "Ui,  ki,  ki,"  suggested  the  anxiety  of  its 
mind.  At  once  it  put  forth  every  effort  of  its  wings.  On 
came  the  birds,  both  flying  higher  as  they  advanced,  each 
endeavoring  to  rise  above  the  other.  The  fish  hawk  sped 


80  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

past.    Another  moment  and  the  eagle  roared  by  sweeping 
along  on  the  trail  of  the  osprey. 

For  half  a  mile  the  chase  continued.  The  eagle  had 
steadily  gained  until  now  he  occupied  a  point  of  vantage 
above  the  osprey.  The  supreme  moment  had  arrived.  I 
strained  my  eyes  to  gaze  at  the  two  specks  far  away.  Then 
as  I  watched,  the  upper  one  swooped  until  it  almost  reached 
the  one  below.  The  osprey  dodged  and  to  avoid  further 
attacks  let  fall  its  prey.  Down,  down  the  eagle  dropped 
through  the  sky  to  catch  the  fish  before  it  struck  the  earth. 
Ere  the  tree  tops  were  reached  the  great  wings  checked  the 
downward  flight,  and  with  the  booty  in  its  talons  it  passed 
majestically  from  sight  over  the  forest,  a  true  example  of 
the  all-conquering  king  of  birds. 

THOUGHT  QUESTIONS 

What  bird  is  often  called  the  "king  of  birds"  ?  Why  is  it  called  this  ? 
What  is  the  emblem  of  the  United  States?  Young  eagles  cannot  fly  for 
many  weeks  after  they  are  hatched.  Hawks  are  closely  related  to  eagles. 
Can  a  young  hawk  fly  soon  after  being  hatched?  Would  you  like  for  the 
osprey  to  have  escaped  with  the  fish?  Are  there  any  eagles  in  your  neigh- 
borhood ? 


BIRD  KEY 

LOME  land  birds 
have  the  custom 
of  gathering  in 
large  numbers  at 
certain  favorite 
spots  to  pass  the 
night.  There  are 

well  known  robin  roosts,  and  buzzard  roosts,  and 
crow  roosts,  and  nightly  gatherings  of  swifts, 
martins  and  other  birds.  The  number  of  species  which  do 
this  is  not  large,  and  those  which  dwell  in  communities 
while  rearing  their  young  is  even  smaller. 

With  birds  of  the  sea  the  reverse  is  the  case.  They  often 
accumulate  in  countless  thousands  on  some  lonely  shore 
for  the  purpose  of  rearing  their  offspring,  sometimes  many 
species  being  thus  associated.  Of  the  gulls,  petrels  and 
other  birds  which  throng  certain  rocky  islands  in  the  Gulf 
of  St.  Lawrence,  Mr.  Chapman  and  other  naturalists  have 
told  us.  The  Farallone  Islands,  lying  in  the  Pacific  Ocean 
about  thirty  miles  from  San  Francisco,  are  famous  for 
their  abundance  of  bird  life. 

On  some  of  the  South  American  islands  flocks  of  feath- 

[81] 


82  STORIES  OP  BIRD  LIFE 

ered  inhabitants  are  found  in  almost  inconceivable  num« 
bers.  Why  sea  birds  have  this  habit  it  is  hard  to  explain. 
Perhaps  they  gather  for  mutual  protection  against  enemies. 
Possibly  they  desire  the  companionship  of  kindred  beings 
during  the  nesting  period. 

A  breeding  and  roosting  place  of  much  ornithological 
interest  is  Bird  Key,  a  small  island  in  Tampa  Bay,  Flor- 
ida. The  greater  portion  of  this  island,  like  all  those  in 
the  neighborhood,  is  covered  with  a  growth  of  mangrove 
trees.  For  years  it  has  been  a  popular  summer  resort  for 
three  species  of  coast  and  ocean  birds.  At  this  season 
the  wooded  part  of  the  island  is  divided  about  equally 
between  Florida  cormorants  and  brown  pelicans.  The 
former  occupy  the  eastern,  the  latter  the  western  portion 
of  the  island. 

Over  the  area  of  the  island  used  by  the  cormorants 
many  of  the  trees  are  fifteen  to  twenty  feet  high.  Among 
the  upper  branches  of  these  the  birds  build  their  substan- 
tial nests.  A  local  observer  told  me  that  most  of  the  cor- 
morants arrive  at  the  rookery  in  March,  and  do  not  leave 
until  August.  He  said,  however,  that,  probably  on  account 
of  the  good  fishing  in  the  neighborhood,  some  remain  about 
the  island  throughout  the  year. 

On  the  twentieth  of  July,  while  on  a  visit  to  this  place,  I 
saw  hundreds  of  these  birds.  None  were  found  sitting  on 
eggs,  and  to  all  appearances  the  nesting  period  of  the 


BIRD  KEY 


83 


cormorants  was  about  to  close.  The  young,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  two  or  three  dozen,  were  able  to  fly,  and  when 
frightened  would  quit  the  trees  with  their  parents  and  fly 
out  into  the  bay. 

The  trees  and  bushes  of  the  other  end  of  the  bird  town 
furnished  accommodations  for. the  nests  of  several  hun- 
dred brown  pelicans.  Here,  too,  we  found  the  season 
nearly  at  an  end. 
Three  or  four  large 
groups  of  pelicans, 
swimming  a  hundred 
yards  or  more  from 
shore,  were  made  up 
largely  of  those  young 
which  were  old  enough 
to  leave  the  trees  and 

fly  out  into  the  water.  At  this  age  the  heads  of  the  birds  do 
not  have  the  yellow  and  brown  feathers  of  the  adults,  but 
have  a  uniform  coat  of  gray.  Other  young  ones  were  lying 
on  their  nests,  or,  if  sufficiently  strong,  were  standing  or 
climbing  about  on  the  limbs  near  by.  A  few  of  the  nests 
contained  large,  chalky  white  eggs.  Of  the  ten  nests  ex- 
amined, one  held  one,  five  held  two,  and  four  held  three 
eggs  each. 

Young  pelicans    are    fierce    nestlings.      Those   strong 


84  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

enough  to  stand  alone  did  not  hesitate  to  strike  at  us 
threateningly  with  their  bills  as  we  approached,  and  on 
more  than  one  occasion  they  were  seen  thrusting  at  each 
other.  These  awkward  young  pugilists  are  also  exceed- 
ingly noisy.  They  kept  up  a  continual  clamor,  which 
might  have  been  grating  to  the  ears  of  any  but  an  inter- 
ested spectator. 

One  of  our  party,  whose  home  was  on  the  coast,  re- 
marked that,  as  it  was  an  easy  matter  to  rear  young  peli- 
cans by  hand  where  fish  were  abundant  and  easily  cap- 
tured, he  wished  to  secure  a  pair  for  that  purpose.  Pro- 
ceeding to  carry  out  his  intention,  he  approached  a  man- 
grove bush  holding  a  nest  in  which  two  thrifty  pelican 
children  were  carrying  on  a  heated  discussion  over  some 
household  difficulty.  They  were  scolding  and  biting  each 
other  in  a  most  unbrotherly  manner.  But  now  they  turned 
upon  their  mutual  enemy.  A  lively  scene  followed,  but  he 
brought  them  aboard  at  last  at  the  cost  of  a  bruised  hand 
and  a  battered  straw  hat. 

Queer  looking  and  queer  acting  passengers  they  were, 
with  their  great  bills,  white  downy  coats,  and  pinfeathered 
wings.  Once  aboard  we  never  saw  them  quarrel  again. 
At  first  they  had  to  be  taught  to  eat  from  the  hand,  but 
they  soon  learned  the  lesson,  and  in  a  short  time  would  flop 


BIRD  KEY          *  85 

vigorously  along  the  deck  and  stand  in  an  attitude  of 
entreaty  when  fish  were  landed. 

They  made  their  roost  on  the  bowsprit,  and  did  little  but 
occupy  it  day  and  night.  At  first  they  wholly  declined  to 
be  coaxed  on  deck,  and  the  nature  of  their  retreat  made  it 
difficult  to  dislodge  them.  If,  while  on  deck,  they  were  ad- 
vanced upon,  the  action  was  at  once  resented  with  screams 
and  vigorous  waving  of  wings.  As  they  kept  close  together 
on  such  occasions  a  wing  of  the  larger  bird  generally  came 
to  rest  over  the  shoulders  of  the  smaller  in  a  truly  affection- 
ate attitude,  and  here  it  would  remain.  Punch  and  Judy 
we  named  them.  He  of  the  affectionate  wing  was  Punch, 
she  who  abode  beneath  its  shelter  was  Judy.  They  had 
enormous  appetites,  these  young  pelicans  of  Tampa  Bay, 
and  as  fish  abounded  in  the  water  about  us,  they  were  con- 
tinually fed  to  their  utmost  capacity.  When  two  weeks 
later  our  company  separated,  there  were  none  of  the  party 
whose  appearance  had  so  much  improved  by  the  outing 
as  the  young  pelicans. 

Our  stay  at  Bird  Key  was  but  a  short  call,  a  sort  of  flying 
visit  paid  from  six  to  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning.  For 
the  number  of  young  pelicans  seen,  the  company  of  adults 
appeared  to  be  disproportionately  small ;  a  fact  which  led 
me  to  think  that  probably  the  parents  were  away  in  search 
of  food.  Another  striking  thing  was  that  we  saw  no  old 


8(5  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

ones  feeding  their  young,  and  at  what  hour  the  breakfast 
came  in  Pelicanville  we  did  not  learn.  Although  several 
days  were  spent  in  this  part  of  Tampa  Bay,  pelicans  were 
never  noticed  fishing  within  some  miles  of  the  breeding 
grounds.  Inasmuch  as  good  fishing  could  have  been  found 
closer,  I  failed  to  understand  why  the  birds  did  not  fish  in 
the  water  surrounding  the  colony. 

The  brown  pelican  is  very  large.  In  an  average  speci- 
men across  the  wings  from  point  to  point  the  distance  is 
six  and  one-half  feet.  In  length  it  measures  four  feet  or 
more.  The  size  of  these  birds  shows  to  good  advantage 
when  they  are  on  the  wing.  They  usually  travel  in  flocks, 
varying  from  a  dozen  to  one  hundred  individuals.  The 
formation  on  such  occasions  is  that  of  a  single  rank  as  they 
silently  pursue  their  course  from  one  resting  place  to  an- 
other. As  they  proceed  their  wings  beat  in  perfect  unison 
for  a.  time,  then  suddenly  the  flopping  ceases  and  all  sail 
apparently  without  effort.  Never  have  I  seen  birds  move 
with  such  dignity  or  with  more  precision. 

While  standing,  a  pelican  usually  holds  its  head  high 
with  its  bill  pointed  downward,  resting  in  part  on  its 
throat,  but  if  excited,  the  bird  may  point  its  bill  almost  at 
right  angles  to  its  neck.  As  one  turns  to  look  at  you  the 
action  is  strongly  suggestive  of  the  movement  of  an  ele- 
phant when  he  swings  his  head  around,  the  trunk  of  the 
one  corresponding  well  to  the  bill  of  the  other. 


BIKD   KEY  87 

When  a  pelican  goes  fishing  he  carries  nothing  but  a  dip 
net,  which  is  a  pouch  suspended  from  his  under  mandible. 
Flying  along  twenty-five  or  fifty  feet  above  the  water, 
when  he  detects  a  suitable  fish  near  the  surface  he  quickly 
checks  his  flight  and  ends  his  outgoing  trip  with  a  sudden 
downward  plunge  and  a  great  splash.  As  the  bird  strikes 
the  water  the  sides  of  the  under  mandible 
bow  outward  to  serve  as  the  bails  of 
the  net,  and  the  great  pouch 
scoops  in  the  desired 
fish.  Down 
comes  the  up- 
per part  of  the  bill,  the  sides  of  the  lower 
close  in,  the  pouch  contracts,  and  the  water 
is  squeezed  out. 

A  brown  pelican's  bill  is  twelve  or  thir- 
teen inches  long,  and  is  armed  at  the  ex- 
tremity with  a  sharp  hook.  The  amount  the  pouch  is 
capable  of  holding  is  something  astonishing.  I  once 
poured  fifteen  quarts  of  water  into  one,  the  pouch  dis- 
tending sufficiently  to  hold  it  all. 

Another  visitor  which  comes  to  Bird  Key  in  far  greater 
numbers  than  either  the  pelican  or  cormorant,  is  the  man- 
of-war  bird.  They  love  to  gather  here  after  they  have 
reared  their  young  on  some  of  the  islands  of  South  Florida 


88  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE. 

or  the  West  Indies.  In  ease  and  beauty  of  flight  there  are 
few,  if  any,  birds  which  equal  this  tireless  privateer  of  the 
ocean.  Imagine  a  swallow  with  a  long  forked  tail,  and 
wings  whose  sweep  is  seven  and  a  half  feet!  Such  is  the 
general  appearance  of  the  man-of-war.  It  is  a  bird  of  the 
tropics  and  is  a  famous  wanderer.  Its  wings  bear  it  far 
over  the  sea,  and  sometimes  when  fierce  gales  are  raging 
it  may  be  seen  at  a  great  height  many  miles  inland,  floating 
in  circles  about  the  sky. 

The  bird  has  acquired  its  name  from  its  wonderful 
prowess  as  a  pirate.  Not  only  can  it  swiftly  overtake  other 
winged  inhabitants  of  the  ocean,  but  its  heavy  hooked  beak 
is  so  formidable  that  a  bird  when  chased  will  gladly  yield 
its  recently  captured  prey  to  avoid  a  blow  from  the  dreaded 
weapon.  The  man-of-war's  flight  is  accomplished  with  the 
greatest  ease  imaginable.  I  remember  seeing  one,  during 
a  heavy  squall,  swoop  down  and  pick  an  object  from  the 
waves  as  gracefully  as  a  swallow  might  skim  a  summer 
mill  pond. 

An  hour  before  sunset  on  the  nineteenth  of  July,  the 
frigate  birds,  as  they  are  often  called,  began  to  appear  off 
the  mouth  of  Tampa  Bay,  and  as  the  evening  closed  their 
numbers  increased.  All  were  flying  leisurely  up  the  bay 
toward  Bird  Key.  They  continued  to  pass  until  dark. 
At  dawn  the  next  day  I  was  in  a  small  fishing  boat 


BIRD  KEY  89 

grounded  on  a  mud  flat  three  hundred  yards  from  the  key. 
The  excitement  of  being  near  a  great  rookery,  the  sight 
of  so  many  birds,  together  with  the  cries  and  odors  which 
were  borne  to  us  by  the  wind,  will  long  linger  in  my 
memory. 

Soon  after  it  became  light  enough  for  us  to  distinguish 
objects  clearly  on  the  island,  the  man-of-wars,  which  used 
the  entire  wooded  portion  as  a  roosting  resort,  began  to 
rise  from  the  trees.  How  they  could  sleep  amid  all  the 
noises  of  the  rookery  I  could  never  imagine.  Slowly  they 
arose  on  their  powerful  wings,  swinging  around  in  ever 
increasing  circles  until  they  reached  an  altitude  of  many 
hundred  feet.  It  was  a  magnificent  sight  to  behold  this 
top-shaped  figure,  composed  of  a  great  company  of  birds 
which  must  have  numbered  ten  thousand  strong.  From 
the  upper  end  of  the  throng,  where  the  air  was  clear  and 
pure,  the  birds  headed  in  a  long  line,  singly  and  in  small 
companies,  straight  for  the  open  gulf.  By  eight  o'clock 
only  two  or  three  still  lingered  in  view.  The  great  fleet  of 
privateers  had  put  to  sea. 

THOUGHT  QUESTIONS 

Did  you  ever  see  a  colony  of  birds  roosting  or  nesting  together?  In  the 
fall  and  winter  make  inquiries  for  crow  roosts  in  the  country.  Did  you 
ever  see  a  pelican  ?  If  not,  look  at  the  picture  of  one  and  tell  whether  you 
think  or.e  could  best  walk  or  swim.  Can  all  birds  swim  ?  Can  a  hen  swim  ? 
How  many  sea  birds  can  you  name? 


90" 


THE  MOCKING  BIRD 


the  nightingale  is  to  southern  Europe  the 
mocking  bird  is  to  the  Southern  States,  the 
most  wonderful  song  bird  of  the  country  .aid  the  universal 
favorite  of  the  people.  His  reputation  as  a  musician  is 
world  wide.  Whoever  hears  his  song  is  deeply  impressed, 
and  wherever  the  story  of  the  birds  is  told,  the  power  of 
the  mocking  bird's  voice  is  recalled.  He  is  one  of  the  first 
in  the  spring  to  sing;  indeed,  I  have  heard  him  near  the 
northern  border  of  his  range,  singing  with  great  force  on  a 
clear  February  morning  when  ice  covered  the  trees  as  a 
garment. 

In  those  States  which  border  on  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  the 
mocking  birds  are  in  full  song  by  March  first.  In  that 
semi-tropical  climate  they  abound,  and  in  many  sections 
are  the  most  abundant  species.  I  have  sometimes  thought 

[91] 


92  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

that  they  must  be  conscious  of  the  power  of  their  numbers 
from  the  bold,  defiant  manner  in  which  the  music  will 
often  come  from  a  dozen  or  more  throats  within  hearing 
at  one  time,  drowning  in  its  volume  the  notes  of  all  other 
denizens  of  the  fields  and  shrubbery.  The  bird  revels  in 
the  glory  of  his  vocal  strength,  and  shouts  his  ringing 
challenge  to  the  trees,  the  flowers,  the  very  sky  itself. 

Watch  the  mocking  bird  some  spring  mornitfg  as  with 
ruffled  feathers  and  drooping  wings  he  sits  on  the  topmost 
bough  of  a  neighboring  tree  and  pours  out  the  beautiful 
story  of  his  love.  At  times  the  very  intensity  of  the  music 
within  his  breast  lifts  him  many  feet  into  the  air.  With 
dangling  legs  and  carelessly  flopping  wings  he  drops  again 
to  his  perch,  singing  the  while.  Anon  he  descends  to  the 
earth  for  a  moment,  a  few  rapid  hops  in  the  grass  and  he 
bounds  again  into  the  air  with  scarcely  an  intermission  in 
his  song.  Music  high  and  low,  loud  and  soft,  hilarious 
and  sad,  with  never  a  hesitation,  never  a  false  note,  is  what 
falls  to  your  ears  as  you  hearken  to  this  wonderful,  master- 
ful fellow,  the  music-prince  of  the  southern  highways  and 
groves. 

However,  it  is  at  night  that  the  mocking  bird  is  at  his 
best.  If  he  is  the  music-prince  of  the  grove  by  day,  he  is 
the  song-king  of  the  lawn  by  night.  When  all  the  world  is 
hushed  save  the  faint  murmur  of  distant  pines,  and  the 


THE  MOCKING  BIED  93 

gentle  gales  are  freighted  with  the  odor  of  orange  blos- 
soms, the  song  of  the  mocking  bird,  softened  by  the  mellow 
moonlight,  floats  to  one's  ears  as  a  message  of  exquisite 
loveliness,  like  the  sound  of  a  beloved  voice  from  the  silent 
past. 

Besides  his  native  song,  the  mocking  bird  has  the  won- 
derful power  of  acquiring  by  practice  the  notes  of  many  of 
the  feathered  forms  he  is  accustomed  to  hear.  He  imitates 
the  songs  of  the  robin  and  wood  thrush,  the  bluebird  and 
the  wren.  With  wonderful  distinctness  he  will  give  the 
clear  whistle  of  the  cardinal  grosbeak.  In  regions  where 
the  little  sparrow  hawk  is  a  common  resident  many  mock- 
ers can  reproduce  its  cry  so  perfectly  as  to  deceive  the 
most  trained  ear.  Not  all  mocking  birds  have  equal  power 
of  imitation.  The  gift  of  mocking  in  different  individuals 
seems  to  vary  quite  as  much  as  the  range  of  their  natural 
song.  An  observer  in  South  Carolina  speaks  of  hearing 
one  mimic  the  notes  of  no  less  than  thirty-two  birds  during 
an  interval  of  ten  minutes. 

The  nest  "of  the  mocking  bird  is  variously  situated,  in 
small  trees,  brush  heaps,  briers,  in  the  corners  of  rail 
fences,  in  the  decayed  trunks  of  trees,  on  stumps,  in  piles 
of  cord  wood,  and  at  times  in  vines  growing  about  the 
doors  and  verandas  of  our  houses.  Once  I  found  a  nest 
between  the  wall  and  the  stick-and-clay  chimney  of  a 


94  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

ruined  negro  cabin.  The  nesting  material  consists  of 
twigs,  plant  stems,  dry  grasses,  pieces  of  paper,  strings, 
strips  of  bark,  feathers,  rags  or  other  suitable  articles 
which  can  easily  be  secured.  The  structure  is  generally 
lined  with  rootlets.  The  distance  at  which  the  nest  is 
placed  above  the  ground  varies  from  three  to  ten  feet. 
Rarely  one  may  be  seen  elevated  fifty  feet  in  the  air  on  the 
bough  of  a  large  tree. 

The  eggs  have  a  pale  greenish  blue  ground-color  and 
are  covered  quite  uniformly  with  reddish  brown  spots. 
Four  is  the  number  generally  laid  in  a  nest,  sometimes  five, 
and  rarely  six.  The  one  profession  of  the  male  in  the 
spring  is  singing,  and  so  completely  does  this  engross  his 
mind  that  to  his  mate  is  left  the  entire  responsibility  of 
constructing  their  habitation  and  hatching  the  eggs.  May 
is  the  principal  month  for  nesting,  although  I  have  seen 
mocking  birds  incubating  their  eggs  as  far  north  as  Ocra- 
coke  Inlet  by  April  tenth.  In  the  southern  part  of  its 
range  two  broods  are  reared  in  a  season. 

While  engaged  in  incubation  or  caring  for  the  young,  the 
nest  is  guarded  with  the  utmost  care.  The  parents  will 
not  hesitate  to  attack  any  enemy,  real  or  imaginary,  which 
may  approach  their  domain,  be  it  crow,  or  dog,  or  man. 
If  they  do  not  actually  assail  they  will  at  least  approach 
near  and  scold  soundly.  Their  cry  of  alarm  at  once  warns 


THE  MOCKING  BIRD  95 

other  birds  in  the  vicinity  of  approaching  danger.  If  the 
intruder  be  a  hawk  the  cry  is  taken  up  and  passed  from 
garden  to  garden  by  these  self-appointed  sentinels,  and  the 
evil  news  of  its  approach  is  heralded  faster  than  the  winged 
desperado  can  fly. 

If  a  mocking  bird's  nest  be  destroyed  the  mother  bird 
will,  within  a  few  days,  begin  building  a  new  one.  If  an 
accident  likewise  befalls  this,  still  another  will  be  built. 
A  pair  once  made  their  nest  among  the  rails  of  a  fence  near 
my  home.  The  owner  of  the  fence  soon  afterward,  while 
making  some  repairs  about  the  lot,  accidently  tore  the  nest 
from  its  position  and  the  eggs  were  broken.  The  bird  then 
built  in  a  small  oak  tree  near  by,  but  an  animal  in  the 
pasture  rubbed  the  tree  down  and  the  birds  were  again 
without  a  home. 

In  their  search  for  a  more  secure  position  the  distressed 
mockers  sought  the  protection  of  a  large  orange  tree,  and, 
on  a  horizontal  limb  ten  feet  from  the  ground,  built  a  nest. 
Here  more  trouble  awaited  them,  for  a  cat  climbed  the  tree, 
despite  the  thorns,  and  ate  the  young  in  the  nest.  If  the 
poor  birds  were  discouraged  by  this  series  of  disasters  they 
did  not  show  it  by  their  actions.  A  week  after  this  last 
catastrophe  I  saw  the  female  carrying  twigs  in  among  the 
dagger  shaped  leaves  of  a  Spanish  bayonet  plant.  Here  at 
last  she  found  a  sure  retreat  and  reared  her  young  in 


96 


STOKIES  OF  BIKD  LIFE 


safety,  free  alike  from  the  intrusions  of  man,  and  ox,  and 
cat. 

If  kindly  treated  this  bird  will  ofttimes  become  very 
trustful,  and  if  you  are  so  fortunate  as  to  have  trees  and 
shrubbery  about  your  house,  he  will  perch  in  your  door- 
way and  even  hop  about  your  room.  I  knew  one  which 
often  did  this  until  one  day  a  heavy  hand  was  laid  upon 
him  and  he  was  placed  in  a  cage.  But  the  moment  he  was 
imprisoned  his  tameness  vanished.  He  refused  all  food 
and  dashed  wildly  against  the  cruel  bars.  And  O,  how  long 
and  untiringly  he  sought  his  freedom! 

Outside  he  could  hear  the 
buzzing  of  a  humming  bird's 
wings  among  the  woodbine  on  the 
veranda  trellis.  He  heard,  too. 
the  twitter  of  swifts  as  they  cir- 
cled and  darted  about  the  sky,  and 
again  and  again  the  songs  and  calls 
of  his  fellows  reached  his  ears,  as 
they  chased  each  other  about  the 
grove  in  their  mimic  combats.  In  his  efforts  to  escape  he 
drove  his  bill  continually  between  the  bars  of  the  cage, 
until  his  head  was  bleeding  from  many  bruises.  At  times 
he  called  loudly  for  help,  and  was  never  content  a  moment 
until  his  wings  bore  him  once  more  into  the  bright  sun- 


THE  MOCKING  BIBD  97 

shine,  for  like  most  wild  creatures  that  have  grown  to 
maturity  in  the  free  air,  he  could  never  be  taught  to  live  in 
captivity. 

A  friend  of  mine  once  picked  up  a  young  mocking  bird 
which  had  been  injured  and  kindly  cared  for  it.  She 
placed  it  in  a  cage  and  fed  it  for  a  time  with  ripe  berries 
and  a  mixture  of  boiled  egg  and  potato.  Later  when  it  was 
able  to  fly  it  was  given  its  liberty.  Instead  of  leaving,  it 
followed  her  about  the  house,  hopping  and  flying  along 
the  floor.  It  would  light  on  her  arm  and  feed  from  her 
hand.  If  she  was  out  of  its  sight  for  an  hour  it  would  be- 
come uneasy,  and  entering. the  house  by  door  or  window, 
would  seek  her  from  room  to  room,  chirping  loudly  in  dis- 
tressed tones.  For  many  weeks  the  bird  remained  about 
the  house  and  lawn,  and  would  come  when  called  by  his 
mistress. 

Unfortunately  for  their  preservation,  mocking  birds 
when  taken  while  young  will,  with  proper  care,  thrive  in 
captivity.  This  power  of  adaptability  to  cage  life  is 
proving  its  destruction.  Thousands  of  young  are  collected 
each  year  and  placed  in  cages.  Of  the  small  per  cent  of 
these  captives  which  survive  the  first  few  months  of  their 
imprisonment,  numbers  are  shipped  to  Northern  cities  and 
sold.  In  many  communities  mocking  birds  are  rapidly 
becoming  exterminated,  owing  to  the  treatment  which  they 


98  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

receive  from  the  hands  of  the  very  beings  whom  they  so 
constantly  aid  by  destroying  countless  millions  of  harm- 
ful insects.  Some  of  the  fruit  growers  shoot  the  birds  be- 
cause they  choose  to  sample  now  and  then  the  fruit  which 
they  have  helped  to  raise. 

Once  I  knew  a  man,  who,  along  with  his  other  occupa- 
tions, was  a  grape  grower  in  a  small  way.  He  could  not 
' '  abide ' '  a  mocking  bird,  he  declared, ' '  they  ate  his  grapes 
so  much."  He  shouted,  and  waved  blankets,  and  hung 
up  bright  pieces  of  tin  to  frighten  them  away,  but  the  birds 
continued  to  fill  their  stomachs  with  fruit  and  the  farmer 
with  wrath. 

' 'One  of  those  pesky  little  rascals  will  come,"  he  said, 
'  '  and  go  to  work  on  the  finest  bunch  of  grapes  he  can  find. 
He  will  bite  a  hole  in  one,  and  stick  his  bill  in  another,  and 
keep  on  that  way  until  he  has  ruined  the  whole  bunch. 
Then  he  will  jump  up  on  top  of  the  vine  somewhere  and 
shout  and  sing  as  though  he  had  done  something  mighty 
smart  and  wanted  everybody  to  know  it.  And  the  wood- 
peckers are  about  as  bad, ' '  he  added. 

So  at  length  the  exasperated  husbandman  put  a  gun 
into  the  hands  of  his  son  and  offered  him  a  reward  of  two 
cents  a  head  for  all  these  birds  he  would  kill  within  a 
radius  of  a  mile.  And  the  boy  hunted  and  killed  to  his 
heart's  content  with  all  the  glee  of  a  young  savage.  Within 


THE  MOCKING  BIRD  99 

a  week  lie  had  shot  sixty-five  mocking  birds,  eighteen 
woodpeckers,  seven  shrikes,  and  a  pair  of  kingbirds.  In 
-some  surprise  I  asked  why  he  had  killed  the  kingbirds 
and  shrikes. 

"I  have  seen  the  kingbirds  catching  our  bees,"  he  ex- 
plained, "and  those  loggerheads,  I  don't  like  them  and 
just  hate  to  have  them  about. ;? 

There  were  other  grape  growers  in  the  country,  and  I 
asked  one  of  these  what  he  did  to  keep  the  mocking  birds 
from  eating  his  grapes. 

"0,  that's  easy  enough!"  he  answered.  "When  the 
grapes  begin  to  ripen  I  inclose  each  bunch  in  a  paper  bag 
and  tie  the  mouth  of  the  bag  close  about  the  stem.  That 
keeps  the  birds  from  the  grapes,  and  as  they  are  in  the 
dark  I  sometimes  think  they  ripen  more  evenly  than  if  left 
exposed.  Shoot  them!  shoot  a  mocking  bird?"  he  ex- 
claimed, in  answer  to  my  suggestion,  "why,  I  wouldn't 
think  of  such  a  thing,  they  catch  too  many  insects  and  give 
me  too  much  fine  music  to  think  of  killing  one.  If  I  had 
no  way  of  protecting  my  grapes, ' '  he  continued,  ( 1 1  should 
plant  more  vines,  so  as  to  raise  enough  both  for  the  birds 
and  my  own  use. ' ' 

Our  mocking  bird  belongs  to  a  famous  family  of  singers, 
the  brown  thrasher  and  the  catbird  being  his  close  relatives. 
Both  of  these  birds  are  gifted  mockers  and  excellent  sing- 


100 


STORIES  OF  BIRD  LITE 


ers.  The  localities  which  mocking  birds  naturally  inhabit 
are  the  growths  of  shrubbery  along  the  borders  of  forests 
and  swamps.  They  leave  these  places  as  soon  as  man 
comes  into  the  wilderness,  and  flock  to  his  gardens  and 

orchards,  as  if  to  protect 
his  trees,  and  cheer  him 
with  their  songs.  About 
the  dwellings  of  the  few  in- 

.^^__         habitants  of  stormy  Cape 

Hatteras  they  are  very 
1  abundant.  One  of  the 
sweetest  songs  I  have  ever 
heard  was  that  of  a  Cape 
Hatteras  mocking  bird,  singing  from  the  shelter  of  a  holly 
bush  one  day  while  the  wind  was  blowing  a  gale  and  the 
ocean  rolled  upon  the  wreck-strewn  sands  of  the  Cape. 


THOUGHT  QUESTIONS 

Do  you  know  the  mocking  bird  and  have  you  heard  it  sing?  If  so,  how 
many  different  birds'  songs  have  you  heard  it  imitate?  Have  you  known 
these  birds  to  build  a  second  nest  after  the  first  one  was  disturbed?  Do 
other  birds  do  this?  If  so,  what  ones  can  you  name?  What  is  the  color  of 
the  mocking  bird's  egg?  What  materials  do  they  use  in  making  their  nest? 


THE  VULTURES 


TRANGERS  in  the  city 
of  Charleston,  South 
Carolina,  are  often  sur- 
prised at  the  number  of 
buzzards  to  be  seen  in 
the  yards  and  about  the 
streets.  They  appear 
to  have  little  fear  of 
man,  perching  without 
hesitation  on  the  roofs 
of  the  buildings,  and 
resting  unmolested  in 
the  large  trees  wherever 
their  fancy  may  lead 
them.  They  alight  at  times  in  the  gardens 
and  at  the  kitchen  doors,  picking  up  pieces  of 
flesh  which  have  been  thrown  out.  A  dead  animal  on  the 
premises,  be  it  rat,  dog,  or  bird,  they  soon  discover,  and 
their  appetite  quickly  rids  the  neighborhood  of  the  un- 
pleasant object. 

They  are  especially  fond  of  congregating  at  the  market 


, 

102  STOftlE'S  OF  BIRD  TJFE 

house,  where  scraps  of  meat  thrown  out  from  the  butcher 
stalls  are  quickly  pounced  upon  and  devoured.  Often  two 
or  more  birds  will  seize  the  same  morsel  and  there  at  once 
begins  a  tug  of  war,  accompanied  with  much  hissing  and 
noisy  flapping  of  wings.  So  accustomed  are  the  inhabi- 
tants to  these  ever  ready  street  cleaners,  that  they  do  not 
hesitate  to  leave  exposed  any  refuse  flesh,  well  knowing 
that  it  will  soon  disappear.  The  value  of  these  birds  as 
scavengers  is  appreciated,  and  everywhere  they  are  pro- 
tected by  law  and  by  the  still  safer  guard  of  public  senti- 
ment. 

There  are  two  species  of  these  vultures.  Although  in 
general  appearance  their  similarity  is  striking,  there  is 
much  difference  in  detail.  The  one  abundant  in  Charles- 
ton is  the  black  vulture,  often  called  ' '  carrion  crow, ' '  and 
in  some  sections  is  known  as  the  "South  Carolina  Buz- 
zard. ' '  Its  feathers  are  black  except  the  shafts  of  the  large 
wing  quills,  which  are  gray.  The  skin  of  its  bare  head  is 
black. 

The  other  species  is  the  turkey  vulture,  familiarly  known 
simply  as  the  "turkey  buzzard."  It  is  covered  with  very 
dark  brown  feathers.  The  skin  of  its  head  is  red,  and  like 
the  heads  of  all  vultures  is  destitute  of  feathers.  In  flying, 
the  tail  appears  to  be  longer  than  that  of  the  foregoing 
species.  The  two  vultures  have  certain  characteristics  in 


THE  VULTUKES 


103 


common ;  for  instance,  their  food  is  in  general  of  the  same 
kind,  and  their  nesting  and  roosting  habits  are  similar. 

While  engaged  in  searching  for  food  turkey  vultures 
hunt  singly  or  in  small  companies.  At  almost  any  time  of 
day  one  or  more  may  be  seen  soaring  about,  at  one  moment 
low  over  the  gardens  and  fields,  and  again  sailing  hundreds 
of  yards  in  the  air  above  the:  earth.  A  southern  landscape 
would  hardly  be  complete  without  a  turkey  vulture  some- 
where in  the  back- 
ground.  When 
storms  come  they 
will  at  times  rise 
rapidly  in  the  air 
until,  on  motionless 
wings,  they  float  in 
the  blue  ether  far 
above  the  raging  of 
the  tempest.  At 
other  times  they  can  be  seen  after  a  shower  perched  on 
some  tree  for  an  hour  or  more  with  wings  expanded,  drying 
their  feathers  in  the  sunshine. 

Although  the  turkey  vulture  is  a  bird  of  the  sky,  it  seeks 
a  lowly  place  to  rear  its  young.  In  the  decayed  butt  of 
some  large  tree,  or  in  the  interior  of  a  hollow  one  prone  in 
the  forest,  the  vulture  finds  an  abode.  There  on  the  decay- 


104  STORIES  OF  BIED  LIFE 

ing  wood  or  dead  leaves,  without  the  least  attempt  at  nest 
building,  the  two  beautiful  spotted  and  blotched  eggs  are 
laid.  In  those  regions  where  the  country  is  underlaid  with 
limestone  many  small  natural  caves  are  found.  In  these, 
often  ten  or  twenty  feet  below  the  surface  of  the  earth, 
this  bird  may  frequently  be  found  brooding  her  eggs. 

The  young  are  at  first  covered  with  white  down.  This 
has  doubtless  given  rise  to  the  familiar  expression, ' '  Every 
old  buzzard  thinks  her  young  ones  are  the  whitest."  If 
surprised  on  her  nest  the  buzzard  will  make  no  effort  to 
defend  it.  She  will  simply  lower  her  head  in  the  most  sub- 
dued manner,  and  not  infrequently  will  humbly  lay  at 
your  feet  a  portion  of  her  last  meal.  The  odor  of  this  dis- 
gorged peace  offering  is  not  so  attractive  to  the  average 
man  as  it  would  doubtless  be  to  another  vulture,  and  the 
intruder  at  this  juncture  usually  beats  a  hasty  retreat.  I 
have,  with  the  aid  of  a  short  stick,  removed  eggs  from 
beneath  a  setting  vulture  without  her  showing  the  least 
resistance. 

The  principal  diet  of  the  turkey  vulture  is  carrion,  which 
it  will  seek  out  and  eat  wherever  found.  I  once  saw  one 
feeding  on  the  carcass  of  an  alligator  floating  in  a  lake. 
It  is  sometimes  known  to  attack  weak  and  helpless  animals. 

One  day  I  came  upon  an  indignant  farmer  busily  en- 
gaged in  th  i^o  wing  clubs  at  a  vulture  which  he  claimed  he 


THE  VULTUKES  105 

had  just  caught  in  the  act  of  killing  a  new-born  pig.  In 
fact  he  presently  showed  me  the  mutilated  body  of  the  little 
grunter. 

The  black  vulture  is  rarely  seen  except  in  numbers.  In  fly- 
ing the  bird  usually  goes  in  a  straight  line,  moving  by  alter- 
nately sailing  and  flapping  the  wings.  The  flight  is  so 
direct  and  businesslike  that  it  impresses  one  as  being  that 
of  a  bird  bent  on  meeting  some  important  engagement  far 
away  over  the  fields.  Again,  the  vulture  will  drop  like  a 
bombshell  from  the  sky,  hundreds  of  feet  to  the  earth 
beneath,  while  the  wind  rushing  between  its  body  and  the 
half  closed  wings  produces  a  loud  roaring  sound. 

In  the  South  when  a  farmer's  cow  or  horse  dies,  it  is 
customary  to  drag  the  body  out  into  a  distant  field  or  woods 
and  leave  it  for  the  buzzards  to  dispose  of.  A  red-headed 
one  soon  discovers  the  repast  which  fortune  has  spread  in 
his  way,  and  begins  circling  about  the  spot.  Soon  another 
appears  and  then  others.  They  are  usually  in  sight  of 
each  other  and  during  the  course  of  a  day  there  is  scarcely 
an  acre  upon  which  the  shadow  of  one  of  their  bodies  does 
not  fall. 

The  black  vultures  do  not  patrol  the  country  in  this 
fashion  and  how  they  so  quickly  discover  the  dead  body 
has  often  seemed  to  me  just  cause  for  wonder.  Possibly 
some  black-head  from  his  lookout  in  the  sky  sees  the 


106 


STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 


unusual  activity  among  his  relations  and  starts  for  the 
scene  of  action,  thus  by  his  movements  giving  warning 
to  a  flock  of  others  of  his  own  kind.  Be  the  cause  of  their 
discovery  as  it  may,  the  hlack  vultures  in  an  irregular 
stream  are  soon  to  be  observed  coming  across  the  country, 
flying  not  far  above  the  tree  tops,  their  course  straight  as 
an  arrow 's  flight  toward  the  lonely  spot  in  the  woods  which 
now  holds  so  much  of  interest  to  them. 

On  they  come,  twenty,  thirty,  forty,  sometimes  fifty  or 


even  in  greater  numbers,  their  eager  eyes  peering  into  the 
forest  ahead,  their  dusky  pinions  bearing  them  forward  to 
the  weird,  revolting  feast,  hurrying  them  onward  to  the 
assembly  at  the  vulture's  banquet.  Soon  they  are  gathered 
about  the  lifeless  animal  and  with  eager  joy  their  sharp 
hooked  beaks  are  tearing  at  the  soft  parts.  They  stand 
upon  its  body  and  pick  out  its  eyes ;  they  trample  down  the 


THE  VULTURES  107 

grass  and  wear  the  ground  into  dust;  they  contend  over 
choice  bits,  and  hiss  and  fight  as  they  revel. 

When  satisfied  they  sit  about  in  the  trees  and  pick  their 
feathers.  Some  of  the  more  gluttonous  will  at  times 
become  so  loaded  down  with  much  eating,  that  when  at- 
tempting to  take  wing  they  are  obliged  to  run  and  flop 
along  the  ground  for  many  yards  before  being  able  to  rise. 
Black  vultures  will  sometimes  become  so  gorged  with  car- 
rion that  for  a  time  they  are  totally  unable  to  fly,  and  may 
easily  be  captured. 

Other  hungry  beings  also  gather  at  the  same  place  to 
feed.  Sometimes  the  great  bald  eagle  may  be  seen  wheeling 
about  in  majestic  circles,  or  if  far  enough  south,  the  cara- 
cara  eagle  may  be  sighted.  At  night  the  half  starved  dogs 
of  the  neighborhood  may  sneak  and  snarl  about  and  gnaw 
at  the  putrefying  limbs  of  the  beast.  For  some  days  the 
vultures  stay  by  the  carcass  and  desert  the  spot  only  when 
nothing  further  can  be  gleaned. 

It  is  said  that  ravens  will  gather  about  a  sick  and  solitary 
animal  and  grimly  wait  for  death,  in  order  that  they  may 
be  on  hand  to  feast  when  the  end  comes.  The  actions  of  a 
flock  of  black  vultures  which  I  once  watched  has  made 
me  think  that  these  birds  at  times  have  the  same  habit. 
While  riding  through  a  thick  forest  far  back  in  a  southern 
wilderness.  I  came  one  day  upon  a  small  lake  the  line  of 


108  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

whose  boggy  shore  was  a  most  uncertain  one.  Trees,  un- 
derbrush and  a  mass  of  thick  vines  extended  some  distance 
out  into  the  water  as  well  as  fifty  yards  or  more  up  into  the 
woods  where  one  might  expect  the  shore  to  be.  Through 
an  opening  in  the  foliage  I  noticed  several  black  vultures 
circling  about  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  pond.  A  number 
of  others  had  perched  on  the  cypress  boughs,  and  two 
were  standing  among  the  long  leaves  of  a  cabbage  palmetto 
tree.  One  or  two  sat  quietly  picking  and  shoveling  the 
feathers  of  their  backs  and  wings  about  with  their  bills,  but 
the  others  were  continually  craning  their  necks  and  peering 
downward  into  the  bog.  Whatever  it  was  that  interested 
them  was  hidden  from  view  by  the  bushes.  I  could  detect 
no  odor  of  carrion  although  directly  to  leeward  of  the 
spot. 

Such  unusual  actions  surely  needed  investigation,  so 
riding  around  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  pond  I  turned  my 
horse  in  through  the  jungle  toward  the  spot  where  I 
guessed  the  vultures  to  be,  for  the  growth  was  too  dense 
to  see  them.  Thick  bushes  and  a  confusion  of  palmetto 
leaves  made  it  impossible  to  see  the  ground  a  yard  ahead. 
At  almost  every  step  great  thorny  vines  had  to  be  cut  away 
from  before  the  horse's  legs  or  breast.  Mosquitoes 
swarmed  by  the  myriad  in  my  face  and  on  my  hands,  while 
the  little  deer  flies  made  life  for  me  a  burden,  and  drove  the 


THE  VULTURES  109 

horse  almost  frantic  with  their  biting.  To  add  to  our  dis- 
comfort and  the  impediment  of  our  progress,  the  ground 
became  soft  and  the  horse-'s  feet  continually  sank  above 
their  fetlocks  in  the  sticky,  treacherous  bog. 

The  horse  floundered  heavily  forward  until  at  length 
with  a  lunge  he  struck  a  spot  too  soft  for  his  weight  and 
sank  down  into  the  mud  to  his  body,  his  head  buried  in  a 
cluster  of  palmetto  leaves  with  their  saw-like  stems  cutting 
his  face  and  lips.  Almost  at  the  same  moment  I  caught 
sight  of  the  object  of  my  quest.  Lying  not  ten  feet  away 
was  one  of  the  half-wild  cows  of  the  country.  She  was 
bogged  sure  and  fast,  and  her  weak  movements  showed 
that  her  end  was  near,— starvation  had  about  done  its  work. 
The  two  vultures  on  the  palmetto  tree  remained  seated 
and  regarded  my  movements  with  some  apparent  interest. 
The  others  were  now  upon  the  wing,  circling  round  about 
the  pond.  Standing  on  the  firm  palmetto  roots,  I  endeav- 
ored with  brush  and  poles  to  assist  my  poor  horse  in  re- 
gaining his  feet.  For  the  next  twenty  minutes  I  worked 
on  busily,  and  the  two  vultures,  the  grim,  loathsome  senti- 
nels, watched  my  every  movement. 

Within  a  tew  feet  was  the  open  water  of  the  pond.  Per- 
haps thirty  yards  away  was  a  floating  tussock.  A  slight 
sound  and  a  movement  caused  me  to  turn  toward  this,  and 
there  crawling  up  from  the  other  side  was  a  big  twelve-foot 


110  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

alligator.  Sluggishly  raising  his  head  a  foot  or  more  he 
looked  toward  me.  In  an  instant  out  came  my  revolver 
and  I  at  once  began  to  drop  lead  into  the  mud  about  him. 
Not  until  the  pistol  reports  rang  out  did  the  two  vultures 
quit  the  palmetto  top.  When  a  short  time  afterward  the 
horse  was  once  more  on  solid  ground,  and  the  alligator 
was  swimming  quietly  along  out  in  the  deep  water,  not  a 
vulture  was  to  be  seen,  for  although  they  revel  in  odors 
produced  by  putrefaction,  no  southern  vulture  can  endure 
the  scent  of  burnt  powder. 

The  favorite  nesting  place  of  the  black  vulture  is  on  the 
ground  among  the  palmettos  or  reeds  of  some  inaccessible 
Lwamp.  Sometimes  the  nest  is  so  well  concealed  that  it 
can  be  approached  only  along  the  runway  which  the  birds 
make  for  many  yards  under  overhanging  vines  and  briers. 
The  young  when  first  hatched  are  black. 

Vultures  often  congregate  at  some  popular  roosting 
place  in  large  numbers.  I  know  of  one  such  roost  in  a 
cypress  swamp  toward  which  a  short  time  before  sunset 
the  birds  begin  to  come  from  all  points  of  the  compass. 
They  are  prone  to  circle  about  for  a  time  before  alighting. 
They  perch  on  the  larger  limbs  of  the  trees,  often  several 
on  one  limb,  but  never  sitting  close  nor  crowding  each 
other.  Soon  after  dawn  they  begin  to  leave  the  roost,  and 
as  a  rule  fly  directly  away.  The  turkey  vultures,  singly  or 


THE  VULTURES  111 

in  small  squads,  scatter  in  all  directions.  The  black  vul- 
tures go  out  in  companies,  following  each  other  one  or  two 
at  a  time,  and  flying  straight  on  a  given  course  as  if  bent  on 
reuniting  at  some  distant  rendezvous.  I  have  counted  over 
eight  hundred  birds  at  this  roost. 

In  all  warm  countries  of  the  globe  vultures  are  found, 
and  everywhere  they  render  man  the  same  great  service  as 
scavengers.  They  are  all  large  birds,  in  fact  the  largest 
bird  that  flies  is  a  vulture,  the  condor  .of  the  Andes  moun- 
tains. In  northern  and  western  North  America  ravens 
serve  the  purpose  of  the  buzzards  by  eating  the  remains 
of  dead  animals  which  have  been  left  exposed.  Although 
grotesque  in  appearance  and  filthy  in  habits,  the  vultures 
are  among  the  best  of  man 's  feathered  friends. 

THOUGHT  QUESTIONS 

Does  the  turkey  buzzard  live  near  you?  Have  you  ever  seen  one  of 
their  nests?  Will  vultures  catch  birds?  Is  a  chicken  afraid  of  a  turkey 
buzzard  ?  In  making  a  list  of  all  the  useful  birds  you  know,  at  what  place 
in  the  column  would  you  put  the  vulture?  Do  buzzards  sail  more  than 
crows  or  robins  when  flying?  Where  do  they  sit  when  tired  and  wishing  to 
rest?  Sometimes  ladies  wear  long  black  quills  in  their  hats;  do  you  sup- 
pose they  know  that  many  of  these  come  from  the  turkey  buzzard's  wing? 


WOOD  DUCK  LIFE 


T  seems  odd  to  think 
of  a  squatty,  wad- 
dling, web-footed 
duck  making  its 
nest  in  a  tree,  but  such 
is  the  habit  of  the  wood 
duck.  ' i  Summer  duck ' ' 
is  the  name  by  which  it 
is  known  in  many  places.  Most 
kinds  of  wild  ducks  found  in  the 
United  States  are  here  only 
during  the  colder  mo-nths,  for 
upon  the  approach  of  summer 
they  retire  farther  north  to  breed.  Often  in  spring  or 
autumn  they  may  be  seen  on  their  journeys  as  in  long  lines 
they  pass  high  overhead.  But  wherever  the  wood  duck  is 
found  in  the  South,  it  is  a  constant  resident. 

One  spring  while  spending  some  time  in  a  heavily  wooded 
country,  I  often  watched  a  pair  of  these  birds  flying  back 
and  forth  between  the  forest  and  their  feeding  grounds  in 


WOOD  DUCK  LIFE  113 

a  small  lake.  They  always  flew  in  the  same  manner,  the 
female  leading,  the  male  either  following  a  few  feet  behind 
or  more  rarely  occupying  a  position  at  her  side.  They 
moved  very  rapidly  and  in  a  few  seconds  would  be  out  of 
sight  among  the  tree  tops.  The  outgoing  trip  to  the  woods 
was  usually  made  about  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and 
the  return  trip  three  or  four  hours  later. 

It  was  evident  from  these  movements  that  the  birds  had 
a  nest  at  some  place  back  in  the  forest,  and  I  spent  many 
hours  in  hunting  it.  One  day,  by  chance,  I  detected  the 
male  sitting  on  the  bough  of  a  tree  fully  fifty  feet  from  the 
ground.  Thinking  the  female  must  be  in  the  neighbor- 
hood I  sat  down  and  waited.  Doubtless  the  duck  on  the 
limb  saw  me,  but  as  birds  often  do  when  not  suspecting 
themselves  seen,  he  remained  perfectly  quiet,  not  willing 
to  risk  so  much  as  a  movement  of  the  head  for  fear  of 
attracting  my  attention.  For  half  an  hour  I  waited,  and 
then  was  rewarded  by  seeing  the  female  emerge  from  the 
top  of  a  tall  stump.  At  once  the  male  joined  her  and  the 
two  sped  swiftly  away  in  the  direction  of  the  lake. 

The  stump  from  which  the  female  had  flown  was  what 
remained  of  a  once  large  forest  tree.  It  had  withstood  the 
gales  of  a  hundred  years  or  more,  and  then  at  some  period 
in  its  old  age  had  been  broken  off  about  twenty  feet  from 
the  ground  by  a  strong  wind.  The  heart  of  the  stump  had 


114 


STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 


decayed  from  the  top  downward  for  three  or  four  feet, 
leaving  a  solid  rim  of  wood  on  the  outside.  In  this  hollow 
the  wood  duck  had  made  her  nest.  She  had  come  that 
morning  to  lay  an  egg,  and  while  thus  occupied  her  mate 
had  gallantly  waited  to  escort  her  back  to  the  lake.  Climb- 
ing up  I  found  four  eggs  lying  in  a  soft  bed  of  feathers 

which  the  female  had 
plucked  from  her  body 
to  make  the  nest  soft 
and  warm. 

The  following  after- 
noon  I   went   with   a 


friend  to  look  at  my 
new-found  treasures 
in  the  w i  1  derness. 
Upon  coming  in  sight 
of  the  nesting  snag, 
great  was  our  disgust 
to  find  there  an  old  black  crow,  standing  on  a  stump  close 
by  eating  one  of  the  duck  eggs.  We  rushed  at  him  with 
rough  words,  brandishing  clubs  and  threatening  to  exter- 
minate his  race.  The  black  rogue  retired  to  the  limb  of  a 
tree  and  wiped  his  bill  on  the  bark  with  the  most  diabolical 
unconcern.  He  could  see  that  we  had  no  gun  and  so  was 
in  no  hurry  to  leave.  The  shrewd  bird  certainly  guessed 


WOOD  DUCK  LIFE  115 

that  we  would  soon  depart  and  leave  him  free  to  finish  the 
feast  which  he  had  found  in  the  stump. 

The  shells  of  two  or  three  eggs,  from  which  the  contents 
had  been  eaten,  were  lying  about  on  the  ground,  and  upon 
climbing  to  the  nest  I  found  it  held  but  a  single  one.  I 
visited  the  stump  frequently  afterward  in  the  hope  that  the 
ducks  would  continue  to  use  it,  but  they  at  once  deserted 
the  nest  which  had  met  with  such  ill  fortune,  nor  have  they 
ever  used  it  since. 

Three  weeks  after  this  occurrence,  the  birds  were  again 
making  daily  trips  into  the  forest  as  before,  which  sug- 
gested that  a  second  setting  of  eggs  was  being  laid.  Day 
after  day  I  searched  for  their  new  nest.  Marking  the  line 
of  their  flight,  I  chose  the  general  direction  and  followed  it, 
examining  every  tree  or  tall  stump  I  passed.  But  my 
efforts  were  without  result. 

Some  weeks  later  a  boy  came  to  tell  me  that  he  had  found 
the  '  *  summer  duck's ' '  nest,  so  we  journeyed  into  the  woods 
together.  The  nest  was  about  thirty  feet  from  the  ground, 
in  a  large  cavity  of  a  living  tree.  The  boy  said  that  when 
he  climbed  to  the  opening  two  days  before,  he  had  seen 
eleven  eggs.  But  now  we  found  that  the  eggs  had  hatched 
and  the  ducklings  had  departed. 

It  has  been  stated  by  some  observers  that  the  young  are 
carried  from  the  nest,  one  at  a  time,  in  the  bill  of  the  parent 


116 


STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE. 


bird  and  deposited  on  the  ground  at  the  root  of  the  nesting 
tree,  whence  they  are  afterwards  led  in  a  body  to  the 
water.  Still  others  say  that  the  young  drop  from  the  nest, 
spreading  their  feet  and 'moving  their  wings  to  break  the 

force  of  their  fall.  This  nest 
was  a  mile  and  a  half  distant 
from  the  nearest  body  of  water ; 
to  reach  it,  if  the  young  walked, 
they  would  be  forced  to  pass 
through  forest  and  plowed 
fields;  surely  a  most  tiresome 
and  perilous  undertaking. 

The  next  morning  I  crossed 
the  field  to  the  shallow  arm  of 
the  grassy  lake  from  which  the 
ducks  had  so  often  come.  Ap- 
proaching cautiously  I  was  able 
to  make  them  out  some  dis- 
tance from  shore.  There  was 
much  marsh  grass  here  which  partly  obstructed  the 
view,  but  I  was  sure  that  I  detected  a  number  of  young 
ducks  swimming  with  them.  Being  satisfied  that  the 
family  was  now  located,  I  went  up  the  shore  some 
distance  and,  entering  my  canoe,  came  cautiously  back 
toward  the  feeding  birds.  I  used  every  precaution.  Lying 


WOOD  DUCK  LIFE  117 

in  the  canoe  with  one  arm  over  the  side  near  the  stern,  I 
slowly  sculled  around  the  last  bend  in  the  marsh  grass  and 
came  in  full  view  of  the  spot  where  I  had  seen  the  brood. 

But  the  old  birds  alone  were  to  be  seen.  There  they  sat 
silent,  with  heads  erect  and  necks  stiff,  at  some  distance 
from  the  position  they  had  recently  occupied.  In  a  moment 
they  had  risen  from  the  water  with  a  great  noise  of 
whistling  wings  that  made  the  little  dell  resound.  Gather- 
ing headway  at  once  they  rushed  whizzing  away  like  a  pair 
of  departing  bombshells. 

Surely  there  were  no  young  about,  to  be  deserted  in  this 
way.  To  make  sure  I  shoved  the  canoe  here  and  there 
through  the  grass  and  reeds,  and  struck  the  water  repeat- 
edly with  the  paddle,  but  no  young  could  be  found.  While 
this  was  going  on,  the  old  ones  returned  and  circled  several 
times  around  the  end  of  the  pond,  and  then  settled  in  the 
open  lake  half  a  mile  away0 

Some  hours  later  I  again  approached  the  ducks '  feeding 
ground  and  again  saw  the  old  ones  with  the  young.  I 
determined  to  outwit  them  if  possible  and  see  what  became 
of  the  young.  Taking  a  boy  in  the  canoe  we  boldly  ap- 
proached the  ducks.  As  we  rounded  the  point  of  grass 
there  were  the  male  and  female  sitting  alone  as  before. 
Instantly  they  were  upon  the  wing  and  after  flying  about 
some  time  lit  at  a  distance  as  in  the  morning.  An  old  rail 


1.18  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

fence,  which  had  now  partly  fallen,  extended  from  the  field 
out  through  the  grass  in  the  shallow  water.  On  this  I 
climbed  and  lying  at  full  length  on  a  couple  of  rails  but  a 
few  inches  above  the  water  found  myself  well  hidden  from 
view.  The  boy  now  paddled  away  up  the  lake  with  my  hat 
and  coat  decorating  one  of  the  paddles  which  he  leaned 
against  the  middle  thwart.  I  lay  in  the  sunshine  and 
waited. 

Twenty  minutes  later  the  ducks  came  flying  down  the 
lake,  the  female  in  the  lead.  Silently  they  lit  in  the  water 
near  the  bend  of  the  grass,  and  swam  directly  toward  my 
hiding  place.  Feeling  sure  both  men  had  gone  away  in  the 
boat  they  did  not  stop  to  reconnoitre,  and  one  of  them  soon 
gave  two  or  three  low  clucks  which  quickly  brought  the 
young  out  of  their  hiding  places  in  the  grass.  How  the 
little  fuzzy  fellows  did  gather  about  their  parents,  and  how 
happy  they  seemed  at  the  old  ones'  return! 

The  duck  babies  were  that  day  being  given  lessons  in 
diving.  The  female  would  go  under  water  and  swim  for 
five  or  six  feet  before  coming  up.  The  ducklings  would 
follow  her  example,  but  often  could  get  little  more  than 
their  heads  under  water,  while  their  feet  worked  so  dili- 
gently that  the  water  boiled  behind  them.  All  this  went  on 
not  more  than  fiftv  feet  from  mv  retreat. 


WOOD  DUCK  LIFE  119 

In  the  midst  of  the  performance  a  slight  noise  from 
my  direction  caused  the  quick  danger  signal 
to  be  given  by  the  father.  At  once  the  brood 
was  in  action,  hurrying  away  for  the  friendly 
cover  of  the  grass.  Wishing 
to  catch  one  for  a  closer  look  I 
rose  hastily  and  began  splash- 
ing through  the  water  toward 
them.  This  time  there  was  no  desertion  by  the  parents; 
the  young  were  not  yet  hidden  and  so  could  not  be  left  in 
safety.  Here  and  there,  round  and  round,  the  anxious  old 
ducks  fluttered  as  though  helpless  from  broken  wings. 

The  female  hurried  the  youngsters  on  by  alternate  lead- 
ing and  driving,  while  the  male  endeavored  to  divert  my 
attention  to  himself  in  another  direction.  Even  after  the 
brood  had  distanced  me  in  the  chase  and  were  well 
secreted,  the  parents  did  not  leave  the  pool.  Their  secret 
had  been  discovered  and  they  continued  to  feign  lame- 
ness until  I  had  waded  ashore  and  departed  across  the 
fields. 

Wood  ducks  sometimes  select  for  their  nests  trees  close 
to  water,  but  those  with  which  I  have  met  were  all  some 
distance  away.  In  fact  I  have  never  found  one  closer  than 
half  a  mile  to  a  lake  or  running  stream.  The  entrance 
hole  to  the  nest  is  sometimes  so  small  that  it  seems  almost 


120 


STOKIES  OF   BIRD  LIFE 


impossible  that  the  bird  should  be  able  to  enter.  Once  1 
found  a  nest  in  a  tall  stump,  the  entrance  to  which  had  been 
made  by  a  flicker. 

Although  the  uncleared  forest  is  their  chosen  nesting 
haunt*  they  will  sometimes  build  close  to  the  homes  of  man. 

Among    the    wooded 
sand    hills    of    Cape 
Hatteras,  standing  in 
a  dooryard  there  is  a 
living  holly  tree,   in 
the  cavity  of  which 
some     wood     ducks 
have     made     their 
home  each  spring  for 
several   years.      The 
opening  to  the  cavity  is  ten  feet 
from  the  ground,  and  the  hollow 
is  eight  inches  in  depth.     Here 
the  duck  sits  and  hatches  her  eggs, 
while   carts   pass    along   the    sandy 
road  within  thirty  feet,   and,   on  the 
ground  beneath,  the  hens  cackle  and  children  play. 
Determining  once  to  take  a  peep  into  this  nest  I  ap- 
proached the  tree  and  struck  it  sharply  several  times  with 
a  heavy  stick  to  see  if  the  female  was  at  home.    But  no 


WOOD  DUCK  LIFE  121 

duck  appearing,  I  climbed  to  the  opening.  Out  against  my 
face  and  away  she  dashed  with  a  frightened  rush.  Straight 
out  over  Pamlico  Sound  she  went  as  though  she  contem- 
plated crossing  that  forty  mile  tract  of  water.  But  within 
five  minutes  the  anxious  mother  was  back,  having  circled 
and-  returned  through  the  woods.  Several  times  she  flew 
through  the  trees  of  the  yard  and  once  seemed  on  the  point 
of  perching.  After  this  she  did  not  leave  again  until  I 
was  well  on  my  way  up  the  road,  then  she  flew  away 
toward  the  Sound. 

At  this  I  hurried  back  and  hid  near  the  nesting  tree. 
In  a  few  minutes  she  returned  and  pausing  a  moment  in 
the  entrance  of  the  cavity  disappeared  within,  from  which, 
T  hope,  there  emerged  later  a  brood  of  young  ducks. 

The  habit  which  the  bird  has  of  lining  her  nest  with  the 
feathers  of  her  body  serves  a  double  purpose.  Not  only  do 
they  make  a  soft  bed,  but  the  bare  warm  skin  of  the  bird's 
breast  gives  a  greater  warmth  to  the  eggs  by  resting 
directly  against  them. 

The  wood  duck  is  a  favorite  game  bird  in  many  places 
and  is  much  appreciated  as  a  table  dish.  Along  in  August, 
when  the  young  are  nearly  grown,  the  sport  of  the  local 
gunners  begins.  In  regions  where  the  birds  are  numerous 
they  can  be  found  on  nearly  every  pond  and  stream  of  any 
size.  Often  two  or  more  families  unite  and  thus  large 


122  STOEIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

flocks  are  formed.  Their  feeding  ground  is  usually  in  the 
clear  patches  of  shallow  water  among  rushes  and  grass 
where  sometimes  they  may  be  approached  with  ease. 

The  sight  of  a  group  of  feeding  wood  ducks,  as  they  bob 
about,  dipping  their  heads  under  water,  is  a  novel  and 
fascinating  one.  While  at  rest  they  enjoy  standing  or  sit- 
ting on  partially  submerged  logs  or  stumps,  and  when 
feeding  they  often  have  one  or  more  sentinels  .posted,  some- 
times on  a  tree  or  snag  several  feet  above  the  water.  This 
is  one  of  the  birds  which  has  stood  well  against  the  ad- 
vances of  civilization.  All  over  North  America  where 
woodlands  exist,  and  lakes  or  running  streams  abound, 
the  beautiful  crested  wood  duck  is  found. 

THOUGHT  QUESTIONS 

Do  young  ducks  have  webbed  feet  when  they  are  first  hatched?  How  old 
is  a  duck  before  feathers  begin  to  appear  in  place  of  the  down  which  at 
first  comes?  Do  tame  ducks  roost  at  night  on  perches,  or  on  the  ground? 
How  soon  can  a  young  duck  learn  to  swim?  Are  ducks'  eggs  the  same 
shape  and  color  of  hens'  eggs?  Do  you  know  the  wood  duck? 


[124] 


THE  SNOWBIRD 


ACH  change  of  the  sea- 
ons,  almost  each  phase 
of  the  weather  may  be 
associated  with  the  ap- 
pearance of  some  par- 
ticular bird.  Thus  a 
certain  kind  of  spring 
weather  always  brings 
to  memory  the  song  of 
the  wood  thrush  and 
the  whistle  of  the  bob- 
white.  One  or  more 
^^  ^$L  mornings  that  are  sure 
to  occur  each  year 
cause  me  to  think  of  a  time  late  in 
June,  when  in  an  apple  orchard  in  the  Hudson  Valley 
1  watched  the  black-and-yellow  goldfinches  about  their 
nests.  Other  times  bring  fresh  to  mind  a  day  deep  in 
summer  when  I  wandered  through  a  meadow  in  eastern 
Indiana  and  startled  the  bobolinks  from  their  lurking 
places  in  the  grass. 

[125] 


126  STOEIES  OF   BIRD  LIFE 

And  so  it  is  that  when  the  autumn  days  come,  and  the 
nights  grow  frosty,  when  the  leaves  are  red  and  gold  on 
all  the  trees,  and  the  flocks  of  cedar  waxwings  come  to  feed 
on  the  berries  of  the  black  gum  and  the  mistletoe,  I  look 
for  the  first  snowbirds  to  appear  along  the  borders  of  the 
woodland. 

It  is  usually  near  to  November  when  we  first  see  them  in 
central  Carolina.  This  year  I  went  into  the  woods  and 
fields  looking  for  the  snowbirds,  as  is  my  custom,  on  Octo- 
ber fifteenth,  and  continued  to  go  each  day  thereafter  until 
they  came.  It  was  not  until  the  evening  of  the  twenty- 
eighth  that  I  was  rewarded  for  my  watchfulness.  While 
returning  home  a  little  before  sundown,  four  birds  flew  up 
from  among  the  weeds  at  the  roadside  where  they  had  been 
feeding,  and  perched  in  some  cedars  near  by.  They  posi- 
tively refused  a  closer  inspection  and  my  inquisitiveness 
soon  caused  them  to  fly  away.  By  the  glimpse  I  had,  and 
by  their  notes,  I  knew  them  to  be  snowbirds,  the  first  of  the 
season.  They  were  of  the  species  called  eastern  snow- 
bird, or  Junco  liy emails.  Two  days  later  others  were  seen, 
and  by  the  time  a  week  elapsed  they  had  become  abundant. 

During  the  winter  they  are  one  of  the  most  character- 
istic and  abundant  species  of  birds  which  inhabit  our 
dooryards  and  fields  and  woods.  They  keep  together  in 
flocks,  sometimes  fifty  or  a  hundred  being  seen  at  a  time. 


THE   SNOW  BIRD 


127 


Sparrows  often  flock  with  them.  The  white  on  the  o  liter 
tail  feathers  is  distinctly  noticeable  when  the  bird  flies,  and 
is  a  good  mark  to  look  for  when  endeavoring  to  identify 
it.  The  white  patches,  contrasting  with  the  dark,  slaty 
color  of  the  back  and  tail,  make  the  bird  easy  to  recognize. 

When  the  snow  comes  and  covers  up  much  of  the  birds ' 
food,  the  stout  weed 
stalks  still  hold  their 
store  of  seeds  high  above 
it  all,  and  to  these  the 
snowbirds  are  wont  to 
come.  They  alight  on 
the  stalks,  and  by  their 
pecking  thrash  out  the 
seed,  which  are  after- 
wards gathered  from  the 
snow. 

Sometimes  the  hunt  for  food  becomes  a  most  serious 
one.  In  February,  1899,  a  distressing  cold  wave  swept  the 
country.  On  the  thirteenth  a  sleet  came  and  covered  the 
trees,  wrapping  each  limb  and  twig  tightly  as  in  a  blanket. 
Grass  and  weeds  were  covered  and  crushed  to  the  earth 
beneath  its  weight.  The  next  day  the  snow  fell  until  it  lay 
deep  upon  the  ground.  All  bird  food  was  buried  under 
this  merciless  sheet  of  ice  and  snow.  The  cold  was  so 


128  STORIES  OF   BIRD  LIFE 

bitter  that  for  two  days  the  thermometer  constantly  hov- 
ered near  the  zero  point.  The  voices  of  the  birds  were  still, 
the  wind  did  not  blow,  and  an  unearthly  silence  brooded 
over  field  and  forest.  The  crows  which  flew  eagerly  about 
the  country,  seeking  food,  did  not  caw.  The  nuthatches 
and  woodpeckers  made  no  sound,  life  was  too  serious  now 
for  comment.  The  usually  noisy  Carolina  wren  neither 
sang  nor  scolded.  The  great  famine  of  the  birds  was  on, 
and  thousands  upon  thousands  perished  during  those  awful 
days. 

One  evening  I  noticed  a  snowbird  fly  to  the  building  in 
which  I  lived  and  disappear  in  a  slit  between  the  bricks 
near  the  ground.  The  next  evening  I  sprinkled  some  bread 
crumbs  on  the  snow  in  front  of  the  entrance  and  watched 
from  the  window  above.  About  sunset  the  snowbird  ap- 
peared. I  am  not  sure  that  it  ate  any  of  the  bread,  although 
it  stopped  before  going  in  to  roost  and  apparently  exam- 
ined the  crumbs. 

The  next  morning  I  saw  a  snowbird,  which  possibly  was 
the  same  one,  alight  in  the  snow  about  sixty  yards  from 
the  house.  Several  fierce,  hungry-acting  blue  jays  came 
moving  through  the  grove,  silent  as  ghosts.  One  of  them 
saw  the  snowbird  and  immediately  darted  after  it.  Ex- 
treme hunger  had  changed  the  jaunty,  saucy  jay  into  a 
gaunt  cannibal.  The  nearly  starved  snowbird  fled,  but 


THE   SNOW  BIKD  129 

within  fifty  feet  dropped  into  the  snow.  The  jay  was  close 
upon  it,  when  I  threw  up  the  window,  waving  my  paper 
and  loudly  shouting  a  remonstrance.  The  jay  paid  no 
heed  but  pounced  upon  his  intended  victim.  Springing 
out  of  the  door  I  ran  floundering  through  the  snow,  halloo- 
ing as  I  went.  The  snowbird  managed  to  escape,  but  its 
weak  wings  soon  gave  way  and  again  it  dropped.  The  jay 
alighted  near  and  gave  it  a  vicious  peck,  but  I  was  on  the 
scene  by  this  time,  and  before  the  blow  could  be  repeated 
had  interfered.  The  jay  retreated  a  few  yards  and  stood 
in  the  snow  defiantly  watching  me.  I  strongly  urged  him 
to  leave  the  country,  and  emphasized  my  remarks  by 
throwing  snow  balls  at  his  head.  I  had  failed  to  notice 
where  the  snowbird  went,  and  so,  when  the  jay  had  re- 
treated, was  unable  to  locate  my  pet.  It  did  not  return 
again  to  its  roost  in  the  brick  wall. 

In  the  early  spring  snowbirds  begin  to  sing.  The  song 
is  little  more  than  a  trill  repeated  over  and  over  with 
pleasant  monotony ;  but  coming,  as  it  does,  when  few  birdr 
are  singing,  and  issuing  from  such  a  nice,  gentle  bird,  the 
few  notes  are  very  pleasing  to  hear.  My  notebook  shows 
me  that  the  first  one  I  heard  trilling  this  year  was  021 
March  first.  The  birds  sang  nearly  every  day  after  that 
and  on  the  twenty-fifth  a  dozen  or  more  were  heard  at  one 


130  STOKIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

time  outside  my  window,  although  the  day  was  cold  and 
a  heavy  mist  was  falling. 

The  Junco  is  found  over  the  greater  part  of  North 
America  east  of  the  Eocky  Mountains.  In  the  southern 
part  of  its  range  it  comes  only  as  a  winter  visitor.  In  the 
mountains  of  Virginia  and  the  Carolinas  it  is  a  resident 
the  entire  year.  And  so  when  the  warmth  of  summer 
comes,  the  snowbirds  of  all  the  Southland  retire  to  the 
North,  except  those  which  go  up  into  the  higher  moun- 
tains to  nest.  Visit  the  Junco  in  his  summer  home  and 
you  will  find  nis  lodge  a  simple  little  nest  of  grass  and 
rootlets  hid  away  in  a  low  bush,  or  in  some  snug  spot  on 
the  ground ;  and  if  the  season  be  early  you  may  find  in  it 
four  or  five  brown-spotted  eggs.  Here  too  you  may  hear 
his  singing ;  and  his  short  trill  of  early  spring  has  now  a 
deeper,  sweeter  tone. 

There  is  a  picture  which  will  long  linger  in  my  mind,  of 
a  pair  of  snowbirds  and  their  nest,  up  on  the  side  of 
Grandrather  mountain.  When  we  saw  it  the  morning  sun 
was  flooding  the  Blue  Eidge  in  a  blaze  of  golden  light. 
Down  the  slopes  and  into  the  valleys  its  foremost  rays  were 
darting,  jewelling  in  their  courses  a  thousand  dewdrops 
on  every  tree  and  rock.  Grand  and  beautiful  were  the 
surroundings ;  as  fresh  did  the  world  seem  as  if  just  from 
the  Creator's  hand.  On  the  eastern  side  of  this  mountain, 


THE   SNOW  BIKD  131 

where  it  was  always  sure  of  the  warmth  from  the  rising 
sun,  a  little  bird  sat  snugly  in  her  nest  on  the  ground. 
Now  the  light  shown  directly  upon  her,  but  later  when  the 
blazing  orb  should  climb  higher  through  the  heavens, 
there  was  the  shelter  of  an  overhanging  cluster  of  leaves 
to  protect  her  from  the  scorching  rays.  Her  head  turned 
inquiringly  from  side  to  side,  as  with  first  one  eye  and  then 
the  other  she  examined  a  neighboring  laurel  bush  behind 
which  appeared  two  heads.  "  Queer  that  they  keep  look- 
ing at  me,"  she  may  have  said  to  herself,  "but  I  guess 
they  will  not  hurt  a  body. ' ' 

Just  then  her  mate  flew  along  and  alighted  on  the  top- 
most spray  of  a  neighboring  bush.  He  evidently  did  not 
see  the  strangers,  for  a  moment  later  in  a  low  reassuring 
tone  he  began  his  morning  song.  Louder  and  more  con- 
fident he  became  as  the  beauty  of  the  morning  and  the 
sense  of  security  of  his  mate  and  their  treasures  grew  upon 
him.  His  head  was  thrown  back,  his  white  breast  con- 
trasted strongly  with  his  black  head  and  gray  coat,  and  his 
throat  swelled  as  the  enchanting  strain  came  stronger  and 
clearer.  Ah !  why  did  we  ever  have  to  leave  the  singer  and 
his  song ! 

And  so  I  like  to  think  of  him  as  each  spring  he  sings— a 
solitary  songster  on  the  mountain  side ;  mingling  his  music 
with  the  murmur  of  the  brook,  his  only  listener  the  mate  he 
]oves. 


132  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

THOUGHT  QUESTIONS 

Does  the  snowbird  come  in  your  neighborhood;  if  so,  when  does  it  ap- 
pear? Will  snowbirds  eat  crumbs  and  suet  if  they  be  offered  them?  Did 
you  ever  hear  a  snowbird  trill  ?  Snowbirds  are  closely  related  to  sparrows. 
How  many  kinds  of  sparrows  do  you  know?  Where  do  sparrows  build  their 
nests  and  what  kind  of  eggs  do  they  lay?  Where  are  the  places  to  look  for 
sparrows  and  snowbirds — in  trees,  fields,  or  flying  about  the  sky? 


A  BOBWHITE  FAMILY 


NE  bright  spring 
morning  while  the 
grass  and  leaves  were 
yet  heavy  with  dew,  and 
the  air  was  still,  as  if  the  world  were  hushed  in  the  pres- 
ence of  such  a  perfect  day,  a  fine  male  partridge  walked  the 
top  rail  of  a  farm  fence  and  loudly  whistled  his  favorite 
note.  * '  Bob  white,  Bob  white, ? '  he  seemed  to  say. 

Over  the  meadow  land  and  the  cornfield  floated  the  call. 
Down  the  lane  and  through  the  plum  orchard  it  rang  until 
it  reached  the  ears  of  Farmer  Levering  standing  in  the 
doorway  of  his  house.  A  smile  rested  on  the  good  man's 
face,  for  forty  years  of  toil  in  the  fields  had  not  worn  from 

L135] 


136  STOBIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

his  heart  the  love  he  bore  for  living  nature.  He  was  soothed 
by  the  quiet  morning,  and  the  warming  sunshine ;  by  the 
dew  on  the  cornfield,  and  the  whistle  of  the  partridge 
ringing  through  the  air,  while  memories  of  other  days 
floated  through  his  mind. 

The  farmer's  son  also  heard  the  note  and  paused  to 
listen  as  he  saddled  his  horse.  He  too  smiled,  but  thought 
of  the  autumn  and  the  time  for  dogs  and  guns.  Perhaps 
the  old  barred  owl  in  his  hollow  hickory  in  the  bottom 
land  woods  drowsily  heard  the  sound  and  twisted  his  wise 
old  face  into  a  smile,  and  licked  the  inside  of  his  bill  at 
the  thoughts  which  came  before  he  dozed  off  again  into 
dreamland. 

There  was  still  another  that  heard  the  whistle.  This 
was  a  plump  female  partridge  on  the  ground  not  far  away. 
Whether  she  smiled  is  not  recorded,  for  she  remained 
hidden  in  the  grass  and  admiringly  watched  the  splendid 
appearance  of  the  figure  on  the  fence.  Quietly  she  an- 
swered in  the  low,  ladylike  manner  of  her  sex.  For  half 
an  hour  the  partridge  on  the  rail  remained  at  his  post,  call- 
ing and  indulging  in  much  self-satisfied  strutting,  which 
showed  the  brilliancy  of  his  feathers  to  good  advantage. 
Then,  the  dew  having  partially  dried,  he  flew  down  and 
led  his  mate  away  through  the  grass  and  beneath  the  over- 
hanging leaves  of.  the  growing  corn.  By  bounteous  atten- 


A  BO^WHITE  FAMILY  137 

tion  and  expressions  of  affection  lie  paid  his  tribute  to  the 
god  of  bird-love,  as  winged  creatures  have  done  ever  since 
the  days  when  birds  first  sang,  and  loved,  and  mated. 

Ah !  those  which  followed  were  glorious  days  about  the 
Levering  farm.  For  the  voices  of  many  spring  birds  filled 
the  fields,  and  the  swamp  lands,  and  the  pine  forests  all 
about;  and  the  partridge  with  his  mate  lived  and  whistled 
and,  on  tireless  legs,  roved  through  it  all.  Close  to  a  rail 
fence  the  nest  was  built  beneath  a  bunch  of  grass,  and  day 
by  day,  for  nearly  two  weeks,  the  white  eggs  it  contained 
grew  in  number.  Then  for  many  days  the  mother  brooded 
over  her  treasures,  keeping  them  warm  and  guarding  the 
nest  from  danger.  Her  mate  fed  her  and  at  times  even  sat 
in  the  nest  while  the  tired  one  went  away  to  exercise  and 
search  for  food. 

Out  into  the  field  one  day  the  parents  came  with  their 
family  of  babies.  Thirteen  little  brown,  fuzzy,  down- 
covered  balls  were  these  chicks,  for  all  the  eggs  had 
hatched.  It  was  only  that  day  that  each  white  shell  had 
opened  before  the  vigorous  pecking  of  the  little  bird  inside, 
and  let  out  its  prisoner.  No  weaklings  were  these  bob- 
whites.  They  had  no  notion  of  remaining  in  the  nest  and 
being  fed  like  young  sparrows.  No  sooner  had  the  sun 
and  wind  dried  their  downy  coats  than  they  were  ready 
and  anxious  to  start  afield  with  their  parents. 


138  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

Great  was  the  anxiety  of  the  old  ones  that  day,  for  they 
had  so  many  duties  to  perform.  Nourishment  must  be 
found  for  mouths  which  as  yet  had  never  tasted  food. 
The  grass  must  be  watched  for  lurking  cat  or  skunk  or 
gliding  snake.  One  eye  must  be  kept  open  for  dogs  or 
men.  The  sky  must  be  watched  for  the  murderous  hawk, 
while  all  the  time  great  care  must  be  exercised  to  keep  the 
family  together. 

As  Farmer  Levering  was  crossing  the  meadow  he  heard, 
a  short  distance  in  advance,  the  rapidly  repeated,  warning 
clucks  of  a  partridge.  At  the  same  moment  he  caught  sight 
of  a  number  of  small  downy  objects  hurrying  with  low 
whistling  cries  in  all  directions.  Hardly  were  they  seen 
before  all  had  disappeared.  Beneath  blades  of  grass, 
under  the  edges  of  upturned  clods,  lying  flat  in  the  open, 
anywhere,  everywhere  they  had  hidden.  As  if  by  magic 
all  had  vanished  and,  search  as  carefully  as  he  might,  not 
one  could  be  found.  Two  adult  birds,  apparently  in  great 
pain  and  distress,  were  fluttering  along  the  ground  eight 
or  ten  yards  away. 

The  farmer  did  not  follow  nor  attempt  to  catch  these 
shrewd  old  parents.  Well  did  he  know  their  secret,  nor 
would  he  have  harmed  either  the  old  birds  or  their  young. 
It  was  a  beautiful  sight  to  him,  this  devotion  of  the  parents, 
as  they  recklessly  risked  their  lives  for  their  offspring. 


A  BOBWHITE  FAMILY 


139 


The  kind  man  passed  on,  thinking  with  joy  of  the  partridge 
family  and  the  good  they  would  do  on  the  farm  that  sum- 
mer if  mishap  did  not  befall  them.  He  thought  of  the 
numbers  of  harmful  insects  they  would  destroy;  of  the 
potato  bugs  they  would  kill;  of  the  hosts  of  cutworm 
moths  they  would  eat ;  and  the  quantities  of  noxious  weed 
seeds  they  would  consume.  ' l  They  are  a  great  blessing  to 
any  farm,"  he  said, 
"and  not  one  word 
of  evil  have  I  ever 
heard  spoken 
against  them." 

Many  are  the 
troubles  which  beset  ';« 

the     young     birds'  ^Pf^ 

pathway  of  life.    A 

limit  has  been  set  upon  the  undue  increase  of  any  species 
of  bird,  and  this  is  a  law  of  Nature :  The  number  of  young 
brought  into  the  world  by  a  species  varies  with  the  de- 
structiveness  of  its  natural  enemies,  and  so  it  is  that  the 
robin  lays  few  eggs  and  the  partridge  many.  The  second 
day  out  from  the  nest,  one  of  the  little  bobwhites  was 
stepped  upon  by  a  horse  galloping  about  the  pasture.  The 
next  day  one  sickened  and  died.  A  third  was  caught  by  a 


140  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

prowling  cat.  Another  fell  into  a  deep  post  hole  and  never 
got  out  again. 

When  some  weeks  had  passed  and  the  young  had  learned 
much  about  taking  care  of  themselves,  the  mother  sud- 
denly forsook  the  family.  Close  beside  a  rarely  used  road 
which  ran  through  the  open  pine  woods,  she  scratched  a 
slight  hollow  in  the  ground  at  the  base  of  a  small  pine, 
lined  and  covered  it  over  with  grass,  and  there  laid  another 
setting  of  eggs.  In  due  time  a  second  brood  appeared. 
Fifteen  more  little  fuzzy  balls  of  life  started  on  that  long 
journey,  fraught  with  so  much  danger,  from  the  days  of 
down  toward  the  days  of  feathers. 

Scarcely  had  their  mother  led  them  from  the  nest  when  a 
storm  came  on.  For  hours  the  rain  fell  in  torrents.  Water 
ran  everywhere.  The  road  was  turned  into  a  stream.  In 
the  woods  it  stood  in  pools.  Night  closed  down  and  the 
storm  continued.  In  vain  did  the  anxious  partridge  strive 
to  cover  and  protect  her  brood.  The  water  rose  under  her. 
The  little  ones  became  soaked  and  chilled;  some  were 
drowned  outright.  When  the  light  came  again  and  the 
rain  had  ceased,  only  six  small  voices  were  able  to  cheep 
a  feeble  response  to  their  mother's  calls. 

The  two  families,  now  depleted  in  numbers,  united. 
Father  and  mother,  big  brothers  and  sisters,  and  little 
brothers  and  sisters  all  associated  together.  When  danger 


A  BOBWHITE  FAMILY  141 

came  near,  the  young  of  the  first  brood  would  take  wing 
arid  seek  safety  in  flight.  On  sounding  pinions  they  would 
burst  away  with  a  loud  whirr  from  the  very  feet  of  the 
astonished  intruder.  Rising  but  a  few  yards  from  the 
earth  they  would  soar  rapidly  away  to  a  safe  distance  and 
alight  again  on  the  ground.  The  baby  ones  would  run 
peeping  to  the  nearest  leaf  or  stick  or  bunch  of  grass 
beneath  which  they  could  hide. 

Thus  living  together  they  spent  the  summer,  making 
their  daily  rounds  through  meadow  and  field  and  forest; 
the  parents  ever  watchful  for  enemies,  the  young  growing 
larger,  swifter  of  foot,  and  stronger  of  wing,  while  each 
hour  bore  them  farther  and  farther  from  the  days  of  baby- 
hood. 

One  evening  the  bobwhite  family  settled  to  roost  in  the 
long  wire  grass  which  grows  everywhere  in  the  pine  woods. 
The  tall  trees  wore  their  habitual  coverings  of  slender 
green  needles,  but  the  bright  colors  which  painted  the 
leaves  of  the  deciduous  trees  at  the  back  of  the  farm 
quickly  revealed  to  the  eye  that  autumn  had  come. 

Only  twelve  of  the  partridge  family  of  thirty  now  re- 
mained. Their  history,  like  the  history  of  every  bird 
family,  had  been  a  series  of  tragedies,  as  one  by  one  their 
numbers  fell  a  prey  to  some  enemy,  a  fate  which  sooner  or 
later  must  befall  even  the  strongest  and  the  swiftest  bird. 


142  STOKIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

This  afternoon  they  had  been  feeding  in  the  field,  eating 
weed  seeds  as  well  as  grains  of  corn  which  had  been  left  on 
the  ground  at  harvesting.  As  insects  become  less  numer- 
ous in  the  lall,  the  birds  must  depend  more  and  more  on 
a  diet  of  this  character. 

All  in  a  bunch  the  covey  of  partridges  crouched  with 
their  tails  together  and  heads  pointed  outward  in  all  direc- 
tions. The  farmer's  dog,  while  scouting  about  with  no 
apparent  object,  passed  near  them.  In  an  instant  they 
were  all  upon  the  wing,  each  taking  a  separate  course. 
Two  of  the  number  did  not  come  to  earth  but  flew  up  on 
the  lower  limb  of  a  pine  near  by.  In  a  few  minutes  the 
"scatter  call,"  consisting  of  two  or  three  low,  anxious 
notes,  was  being  sounded  as  the  members  of  the  disunited 
family  sought  each  other  again  before  going  to  sleep. 

One  of  the  birds  in  the  pine  tree  tarried  for  a  time  on 
his  new  found  perch.  Just  what  happened  to  him  will 
never  be  written.  But  this  much  is  known.  The  big 
swamp  owl  was  very  noisy  that  night,  and  his  calls  were 
answered  by  another  which  was  not  his  mate.  The  old 
inhabitant  appeared  to  be  quarrelling  with  a  stranger,  as 
at  this  season  of  the  year  many  barred  owls  come  into  the 
country  and  swell  the  owl  census  considerably.  Indeed 
so  boisterous  did  the  two  become  that  an  old  colored  man 


A  BOBWHITE  FAMILY  143 

living  on  the  place  remarked,  "De  ole  swamp  owl  am  sure 
mad  at  some  thin '  tonight. ' ' 

The  next  morning  while  riding  along  the  border  of  the 
swamp  I  was  surprised  to  find  a  large  barred  owl  sitting 
on  the  ground  in  a  most  dejected  manner.  Its  wings 
drooped  listlessly  and  the  top  of  its  head  was  bare  of 
feathers  and  the  skin  was  raw  and  bleeding.  Evidently 
it  had  experienced  a  terrible  whipping.  Bobwhite  feathers 
were  scattered  about.  I  took  the  wounded  owl  up  on  the 
horse  with  me,  but  he  died  within  a  mile,  sitting  on  the 
pommel  of  my  saddle.  His  stomach  contained  no  signs  of 
a  partridge  feast  although  I  strongly  suspect  he  knew 
what  became  of  the  solitary  bird  which  alighted  on  the 
swaying  pine  bough.  Perhaps  he  had  caught  it  but,  before 
he  could  eat  his  victim,  had  been  robbed  of  his  booty  by  the 
old  swamp  owl,  who  had  devoured  it  after  giving  its  cap- 
tor a  rare  beating.  At  any  rate  the  swamp  owl's  calls  the 
next  night  indicated  that  he  was  still  alive  and  appar- 
ently happy. 

The  young  were  now  full  grown,  and  a  prettier,  plumper 
covey  of  partridges  could  not  have  been  found  in  the 
country  around.  Sometimes  the  chickens  when  wandering 
about  the  fields  would  meet  the  bobwhites  and  all  would 
hunt  and  feed  together.  Once  they  went  back  together  to 
the  farm  yard.  It  was  a  still  Sunday  afternoon  and  all 


144  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

was  quiet  about  the  house  and  barn.  The  old  cat  lay  out 
on  the  shed  roof  asleep  in  the  sunshine.  The  boy,  wearing 
his  best  clothes,  had  gone  away  with  the  horse  and  buggy 
some  time  before.  The  dog  was  nowhere  in  sight.  In 
company  with  the  hens  the  partridges  scratched  and  wan- 
dered about  the  yard. 

Just  back  of  the  kitchen  was  the  potato  house,  a  small 
log  structure  partially  sunk  in  the  ground  and  roofed  with 
bark.  Through  the  open  door  of  this  a  hen  jumped  down 
to  the  floor  two  feet  below.  Others  followed,  and  soon 
one  of  their  small  friends  joined  them. 

As  the  farmer  chanced  to  be  crossing  his  yard  he  heard 
a  commotion  among  his  hens  at  the  rear  of  the  house  and 
also  saw  the  partridge  family  running  down 'the  garden 
fence.  Approaching  the  door  of  the  potato  house  he  beheld 
a  bobwhite  running  with  low,  anxious  notes  back  and  forth 
at  the  far  end  and  vainly  seeking  some  opening  for  es- 
cape. Creeping  toward  it  with  lowered  head  and  twitching 
tail  was  the  ever-hungry  house  cat. 

With  a  loud  "scat"  the  man  sprang  forward.  He  soon 
held  the  trembling  partridge  in  his  hands.  For  a  few 
moments  he  kept  it  to  admire  its  beauty.  The  shining 
coat,  the  beautiful  beaming  dark  eyes,  and  the  short,  stout 
beak  all  spoke  to  him  of  elegance  and  usefulness.  It  was  a 
female,  he  knew  by  the  buff  color  on  its  throat  and  head. 


A  BOBWHITE  FAMILY 


145 


Had  it  been  a  male  these  feathers  would  have  been  white. 
Her  heart  beat  in  quick,  heavy  throbs  against  his  hand. 
With  all  his  heart  he  pitied 
his  prisoner,  and  soon  raising 
high  his  hand  he  let  go  the  bird. 
Away  she  went  speeding  across 
the  yard  and  over  the  garden, 
her  short  round  wings  .  bearing 
her  at  a  rapid  rate.  Far  down 
the  field  the  farmer  watched  her  I 
fly  until  with  a  turn  and  a  flut- 
ter she  dropped  into  the  grass  by 
the  rail  fence.  Long  did  the  mem- 
ory of  that  day's  fright  burn  in 
her  mind,  and  greater  grew  her 
distrust  of  cats  and  men. 

The  season  for  gunning  was  ap- 
proaching. Already  the  farmer's 
son  had  been  hunting  gray  squir- 
rels in  the  thick  woods  back  of  the 
farm,  and  one  day  he  shot  a  large 
black  fox  squirrel  from  a  pine 
near  where  the  bobwhites  were 

crouching  in  nervous  anxiety.    Soon  their  turn  came.    The 
covey  had  just  crossed  from  the  pine  woods  into  the  pea- 


146  STOEIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

nut  field,  which  was  being  well  rooted  by  the  fattening 
hogs,  when  they  became  aware  that  they  were  being 
watched.  With  a  warning  cry  the  father  bird  ran,  followed 
quickly  by  the  others.  When  they  were  well  in  line  run- 
ning down  a  furrow  near  the  fence  there  was  a  loud 
1  i  bang, ' '  and  three  of  their  number  died  in  a  great  agony 
of  fluttering. 

It  was  unsportsmanlike,  this  shot  of  the  farmer's  son. 
Some  men  would  not  have  fired  until  the  birds  had  taken 
wing,  thus  giving  them  at  least  a  chance  for  their  lives. 
But  this  hunter  secured  partridge  meat  by  his  course  and 
that  was  what  he  wanted.  From  this  time  on  a  more  dili- 
gent watch  was  kept  for  men  with  guns. 

Lured  one  bright  day  by  the  number  of  peas  to  be  found 
in  the  upper  end  of  the  field,  the  flock  wandered  farther 
than  was  their  custom.  In  the  midst  of  their  feeding  a  low 
warning  note  from  one  of  their  number  indicated  danger. 
No  running  this  time.  Up  and  away  they  sped  with  light- 
ning-like rapidity.  Whither,  they  did  not  stop  to  con- 
sider, their  one  desire  being  to  escape.  "Bang,  bang," 
sounded  the  gun,  but  every  bird  kept  straight  on.  Over 
the  garden  fence  they  went.  The  farmhouse  had  recently 
been  repainted.  Whether  its  white  sides  deceived  them, 
or  whether  being  blinded  by  the  sunlight  they  saw  not 
their  danger,  it  would  probably  be  difficult  to  explain,  but 


A  BOBWHITE  FAMILY  147 

straight  against  the  north  side  of  the  building  several  of 
them  flew  headlong  with  resounding  raps.  Half  stunned 
and  breathless  the  frightened  birds  crept  across  the  yard 
and  through  the  fence,— all  but  one,  which  lay  dead  and 
bleeding  by  the  house. 

Much  of  happiness  the  bobwhite  family  knew,  although 
there  was  much  of  watchfulness  and  anxiety  and  sudden 
terror  mingled  with  their  joy.  One  of  their  number  was 
taken  in  a  trap  and  carried  away  to  the  kitchen  along  with 
a  Carolina  dove  captured  the  same  day.  Another  was 
chased  by  a  hawk  and  made  its  escape  only  by  flying 
directly  into  the  open  stable  door,  much  to  the  astonish- 
ment of  the  hens  that  were  scratching  there. 

Still  another  was  struck  by  a  shot  that  fatal  day  in  the 
peanut  field,  but  had  been  able  to  make  its  escape  with  the 
others.  When  cover  was  reached  it  had  picked  the  feathers 
out  of  the  wound  in  its  side  and  cleared  away  the  blood, 
doing  the  best  it  knew  for  its  hurt.  But  the  heavy  sick- 
ening pain  in  its  body  continued.  All  day  it  crouched 
trembling  or  ran  on  after  the  others  when  the  dread  of 
being  left  alone  came  upon  it.  It  tried  to  ease  its  pain  by 
eating  certain  berries  or  leaves  which  old  Mother  Nature 
whispered  in  its  ear  might  be  good.  Through  the  long 
hours  of  that  autumn  day  it  knew  no  joy,  only  sorrow  was 
in  its  heart,  and  a  great  fever  was  in  its  brain,  and  a  swim- 


148  STOKIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

ming  dizziness  was  in  its  eyes.  At  times  it  struck  with  its 
beak  hard  and  wantonly  into  the  ground  where  it  lay,  as  if 
seeking  a  solace  there.  A  choking  thirst  almost  stifled  the 
piteous  notes  of  complaint  which  at  times  escaped. 

As  the  evening  came  down  the  gathering  call  of  the 
family  sounded  over  in  the  field.  The  bird  endeavored  to 
rise,  but  the  exertion  only  resulted  in  spasms  of  pain  and  it 
lay  hopelessly  fanning  the  ground  with  its  wings.  Oh! 
the  agony  of  that  day,  and  the  hours  yet  to  follow !  The 
dews  of  night,  which  soon  began  to  gather,  revived  the 
bird  a  little,  but  this  only  made  it  more  conscious  of  its 
sickness  as  the  hours  of  darkness  wore  on.  There  it  lay 
alone  beating  out  its  life  in  the  forest.  There  was  no  sound 
save  the  sounds  of  the  night,  the  singing  of  the  crickets  in 
the  grass,  the  croaking  of  the  frogs  down  in  the  swamp, 
and  the  distant  baying  of  the  farmer's  dog. 

Gliding  through  the  grass  among  the  shadows  of  the 
pine  trees,  here  and  there,  but  ever  nearer  and  yet  nearer 
to  where  the  stricken  bird  lay,  came  something  which 
seemed  to  be  only  a  slender,  softly  moving  shadow.  Its  nose 
touched  the  ground  and  the  grass  blades ;  quickly  it  looked 
up  and  eagerly  sniffed  the  air.  A  slight  sound  reached 
the  bird's  ears;  its  head  turned,  and  close  by  in  the  dark- 
ness blazed  the  two  small  red  eyes  of  its  most  dreaded 
enemy,  Weasel,  the  blood-thirsty.  With  a  desperate  spring 


A  BOBWHITE  FAMILY 


149 


the  partridge  fluttered  wildly  away.  One,  two,  three  yards 
it  had  gone  and  then  the  soft  arms  of  Weasel,  the  blood- 
thirsty, closed  about  its  neck.  Two  sets  of  sharp  teeth 
met,  there  was  a  despairing  cry,  a  flutter  of  wings  and  the 
night  sounds  in  the  forest  went  on  as  before. 

The  days  of  the  winter  months  were  drawing  to  a  close. 
One  afternoon  late  in  February  the  bobwhite  family,  now 
numbering  only  eight,  was  lying  in  the  sand  of  a  road 
which  ran  through 
the  woods  half  a 
mile  from  the 
farm.  They 
scratched  and 
kicked  the  warm 
dry  dust  upon 
their  sides  and 
backs,  and  had 
the  delicious 
pleasure  of  feel- 
ing it  scatter  and  sift  down  between  their  feathers.  The  sun 
yet  rode  high  in  the  heavens  and  the  day  was  warm,  for  in 
this  Southland  but  little  frost  comes  to  chill  the  earth,  and 
snow  is  unknown.  While  thus  they  lay  and  drank  deeply 
of  the  bliss  of  existence,  the  sky  gradually  became  overcast 
and  a  thin  haze  settled  in  among  the  pines.  It  tainted  the 


150  STOEIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

air  for  the  nostrils,  and  clung  burning  to  the  eyes  and  eye- 
lids. More  overcast  became  the  sky,  thicker  through  the 
trees  drifted  the  smarting  haze,  while  deep  and  low  came 
an  ominous  rumbling,  borne  before  the  breast  of  the  west 
wind. 

The  partridges  lay  still  and  watched  and  listened.  The 
darkness  grew,  the  rumbling  increased  to  a  roar,  now 
mingled  with  a  medley  of  snapping,  crackling,  crashing 
sounds.  The  birds  arose  and  shook  the  dust  from  their 
sides.  The  forest  was  on  fire.  Along  the  west  and  girting 
about  to  the  north  and  south  came  roaring  and  rushing 
the  burning  flames,  the  fierce  devouring  wolves  of  the  fire 
king.  Like  an  immense  pack  in  some  mad  race  they  came 
rushing  on  in  great  leaps,  .eating  down  the  high  hot  grass, 
tossing  up  their  fiery  tongues  and  snapping  and  snarling 
in  their  hideous  work.  Wrapping  about  the  small  trees 
they  quickly  stripped  them  of  their  foliage  and  climbed 
high  up  the  bark  of  the  tall  pines,  scorching  and  killing 
the  slender  green  leaves  one  hundred  feet  from  the  ground. 
The  forest  had  not  been  burned  over  for  four  years  and 
the  accumulated  carpet  of  pine  needles,  with  all  their  rosin, 
together  with  the  tall  dead  grass,  was  a  great  feast  for  the 
fire. 

Dense  volumes  of  smoke  arose  which  at  times  drifted 
low  and  shut  from  view  the  oncoming  flames.  A  flicker 


A  BOBWHITE  FAMILY 


151 


flew  by,  fleeing  for  his  life.  High  above  the  tree  tops  the 
Arredondo  sparrow  hawk  and  his  mate  circled,  calling 
through  the  sky,  ready  to  strike  upon  the  wing  any  of  the 
insects  which  were  endeavoring  to  escape  from  the  con- 
suming furnace  beneath.  AVith  low  notes  of  uneasiness  the 
bobwhites  turned  and  ran,  but  the  flames  gaining  upon 
them  they  took  wing  and  sped  away  toward  the  fields  to  the 


east.  But  alas,  their  only  course  of  escape  was  cut  off.  To 
save  his  fences,  the  farmer  had  set  a  back  fire,  which  now 
with  savage  roar  came  leaping  to  meet  the  wild  fire  from 
the  forest.  The  helpless  birds  dropped  to  earth,  for  they 
had  never  learned  to  soar  high  enough  to  pass  this  en- 
circling volcano  of  fire  and  smoke. 


152  STOKIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

Near  the  spot  where  two  of  them  pitched  was  the  home 
of  a  gopher  turtle,  a  hole  dug  deep  in  the  earth  by  thig 
land  reptile  of  the  Southern  pine  woods.  A  gray  fox,  ex- 
hausted with  speeding  before  the  fire  came  panting  by; 
it  saw  the  hole,  paused  a  moment,  then  crept  far  down  its 
darkened  course.  The  two  birds,  moved  by  some  impulse, 
followed  their  dreaded  enemv  into  the  earth  for  a  yard  or 
more,  and  crouched  trembling  in  the  sand. 

A  moment  later  the  fire  wolves  swept  over  them  with 
their  awful  fierceness,  sending  down  their  hot  breath 
threateningly  into  the  gopher's  hole.  For  a  moment  the 
birds'  lives  swayed  in  the  balance,  then  the  fire  passed  on 
and  they  were  saved. 

Again  the  land  throbs  with  the  life  of  springtime.  The 
heavy  dew  rests  on  the  corn  blades  and  grass,  while  ring- 
ing through  orchard  and  forest  floats  the  whistle  of  a  bob- 
white.  The  farmer  hearkens  with  joy  to  the  well  known 
call,  but  the  memory  of  Nature's  inexorable  law  of  the 
birds  comes  forcibly  to  his  mind,  for  of  all  the  partridges 
of  his  farm  the  summer  before,  but  a  single  pair  remains. 

THOUGHT  QUESTIONS 

What  do  people  call  bobwhites  where  you  live?  How  do  men  catch  those 
you  see  alive  in  market?  Do  you  think  a  bobwhite  has  to  watch  out  for 
dangers  more  than  you  do  ?  What  color  are  the  eggs  and  how  many  are 
found  in  a  nest?  Do  you  ever  see  bobwhites  perched  on  trees?  Why  do  you 
suppose  the  fox  did  not  try  to  catch  those  which  went  into  the  gopher  hole 
with  him? 


LEVY,  THE  STOEY  OF  AN  EGRET 


N  the  scattered 
growth  of  button 
bushes  covering  a 
small  marshy  island  in 
SL  southern  lake,  several 
pairs  of  American 
egrets  for  some  years 
built  their  summer 
habitations.  They 
made  no  effort  to  hide 
their  bulky  nests, 
which  were  simply 
placed  there  in  the 
bushes,  the  most  of 
them  barely  a  yard 
above  the  mud.  Their 
greatest  enemy  was 
man  and  hardly  could  they  have  found  a  place  more  free 
from  his  inroads  than  this  island  in  a  sequestered  lake. 

But  we  sought  out  their  village  one  March  day,  my  com- 
panion and  I,  and  when  we  scraped  the  slimy  mud  from 
our  feet  and  trousers,  and  clambered  again  into  the  boat, 

[163] 


154  STOKIES  OF   BIRD  LIFE 

we  bore  with  us  one  of  their  young.  He  was  an  awkward 
creature  with  long  weak  legs  and  slender  toes.  Thin  white 
down  covered  the  dark  green  skin,  and  the  wing  quills  had 
been  growing  but  a  short  time.  His  neck,  which  was  long 
and  slender,  he  kept  drawn  in.  His  bill  was  slim  and 
pointed.  His  pale  yellow  eyes  looked  out  in  startled  won- 
der, or  moved  in  fright  whenever  he  was  seized  with  a 
desire  to  clamber  out  of  the  boat.  When  we  put  forth  our 
hands  to  detain  him  he  squawked  piteously. 

At  length  our  prisoner  settled  quietly  on  the  center- 
board  case,  and  sat  looking  back  at  the  old  parent  egrets 
which  now  like  fragments  of  white  clouds  came  floating 
back  to  their  nests  of  eggs  and  young. 

Poor  little  egret !  He  knew  nothing  of  the  world  but  the 
island  and  the  lafce.  Now  against  his  will  a  boat  was  bear- 
ing him  from  home  far  across  a  waste  of  waters.  What 
lake  shores  would  his  feet  yet  tread,  through  what  space 
would  his  wings  yet  carry  him?  Would  they  sometime 
bear  him  back  to  his  home  on  the  island?  It  was  we  who 
thought  and  asked  these  questions;  the  bird,  more  prob- 
ably, was  speculating  on  the  possibilities  of  escape,  or 
wondering  when  he  would  be  fed  again.  Indeed,  before 
many  hours  had  elapsed,  it  became  the  general  opinion 
that  contemplations  of  the  latter  subject  occupied  the 
greater  part  of  his  time. 


155 

Just  outside  the  water  lily  leaves  which  fringed  the 
shore  I  dropped  my  hook  baited  with  worms  taken  from  the 
lily  stems.  Several  nice  perch  were  soon  drawn  into  the 
boat.  With  these  we  strove  to  feed  the  youngster,  but  he 
positively  refused  to  take  his  food  in  the  manner  we  served 
it.  He  had  been  accustomed  to  put  his  beak  between  the 
mandibles  of  his  mother's  bill  and  receive  his  food  from 
her  throat. 

It  was  evident  that  he  must  be  taught  a  different  way  of 
eating.  So  he  was  caught  by  the  head  and  his  mouth 
forced  open.  This  rough  treatment  he  resisted  with  all  his 
force,  screaming  and  twisting  his  head  in  an  effort  to  draw 
it  away.  At  the  same  time  the  nails  of  his  toes  scratched 
seriously  the  bare  hands  that  held  him.  A  long  finger 
thrust  sent  the  piece  of  fish  well  down  his  throat;  then  it 
was  quickly  swallowed. 

After  this  performance  was  repeated  a  few  times  it 
became  necessary  only  to  place  the  food  in  the  bird 's  beak 
to  get  him  to  swallow  it.  The  second  morning,  unaided  he 
picked  his  food  from  the  ground  and,  with  a  jerk  or  two  of 
his  neck,  sent  each  piece  home  in  a  twinkling.  The  number 
and  size  of  the  fish  which  this  young  bird  devoured  was 
something  astonishing.  Including  beak,  neck  and  tail  he 
measured  little  over  a  foot,  and  yet  half  a  pound  of  fish 
was  for  him  but  an  ordinary  lunch. 


156 


STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 


From  the  moment  he  arrived  in  camp  and  was  tied  out 
to  a  tree  he  became  the  master  of  the  territory  over  which 
his  string  would  allow  him  to  move.  One  of  the  dogs 
whose  curiosity  prompted  her  to  come  too  near  was 
severely  pecked  on  the  nose.  Losing  his  balance  when  the 
stroke  was  given,  the  bird  fell  on  his  back,  and  there  lay 
kicking  and  squawking  while  the  dog  retreated  to  a  safe 
distance. 

Upon  breaking  camp  we  put  the  bird  in  the  rear  of  a 

wagon  among  a  mixture  of  pots, 
cartridge  belts  and  hammocks, 
named  him  Levy  in  memory  of 
the  lake,  and  headed  for  home. 

Before  half  a  mile  was  covered 
a  loud  strangled  squawking 
brought  me  clambering  back  over 
the  outfit.  There  lay  Levy  on  his 
back,  kicking  out  with  his  long 
legs  most  earnestly.  He  was  chok- 
ing on  the  leg  and  foot  of  a  dead 

fish  hawk  which  he  had  undertaken  to  swallow.    His  appe- 
tite knew  no  bounds. 

Later,  in  the  garden  at  home  his  greed  for  fresh  beef 
was  even  greater  than  his  appetite  for  fish  had  been.  He 
seemed  never  satisfied  with  eating  until  he  could  swallow 


LEVY,  THE  STOKY  OF  AN  EGRET  157 

no  more ;  even  then  it  would  be  but  a  short  time  until  he 
appeared  as  hungry  as  ever.  Such  serious  inroads  were 
made  on  the  family  larder  that  soon  the  egret  was  brought 
into  disfavor  with  the  heads  of  the  household,  and  when 
one  day  he  pecked  and  instantly  killed  a  young  chicken, 
the  parental  wrath  fell  heavily  upon  Levy  and  his  keeper. 

Hence  it  came  about  that  the  next  day  I  bade  farewell  to 
Levy  and  left  him  standing  on  the  margin  of  a  lake  on 
Horse  Prairie,  some  miles  away.  He  must  now  earn  his 
living  or  perish.  It  seemed  bad  to  treat  him  thus,  but  such 
had  been  the  decree  at  home  and  there  appeared  no  help 
for  it;  and  his  captor  was  young  and  possessed  few  re- 
sources. 

A  year  later  I  drove  one  day  by  the  shore  of  the  lake  on 
Horse  Prairie.  Two  hundred  yards  away  in  the  shallow 
water  stood  a  magnificent  American  egret.  It  was  over 
three  feet  tall  and  its  entire  plumage  was  a  spotless  white. 
On  its  back  between  the  wings  grew  many  long,  airy  plumes 
which  fell  waving  far  beyond  its  tail.  The  skin  of  the  bare 
portions  of  its  legs  was  black ;  its  long  bright  yellow  beak 
flashed  like  a  dagger  in  the  sunlight. 

With  a  spring  the  bird  launched  into  the  air  and  with 
slow  deliberate  wing  strokes  flew  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
down  the  shore  and  alighted.  It  was  the  embodiment  of 
elegance  and  grace  of  movement.  Probably  I  had  never 


158  STOKIES  OF  BIKD  LIFE. 

seen  the  bird  before,  and  yet  I  could  not  help  thinking  that 
possibly  this  was  Levy,  and  at  once  began  to  speak  of  him 
as  such.  This  was  childish,  but  I  was  a  child,  and  thought 
as  a  child.  Chancing  to  be  passing  that  way  frequently 
during  the  next  few  days,  I  saw  each  time  an  egret,  doubt-, 
less  the  same  bird,  haunting  that  stretch  of  the  shore. 
Others  could  be  seen  on  the  marshes  at  a  distance. 

In  the  tall  bushes,  growing  in  a  secluded  pond  in  the 
swamp  half  a  mile  from  the  lake,  a  small  colony  of  herons 
had  their  nesting  home.  Here  the  egrets  of  that  region, 
to  the  number  of  half  a  dozen  pairs,  likewise  built  their 
nests.  Learning  of  this  from  a  squirrel  hunter,  I  accom- 
panied him  one  day  to  the  spot.  The  scene  which  met  our 
eyes  was  not  a  pleasant  one.  We  had  expected  to  see  some 
of  the  beautiful  egrets  about  their  nests,  or  standing  on  the 
trees  near  by.  But  not  a  living  one  could  we  find,  while 
here  and  there  in  the  mud  lay  the  lifeless  forms  of  eight  of 
the  birds.  They  had  been  shot  down  and  the  skin  bearing 
the  plumes  stripped  from  their  backs.  Flies  were  busily 
at  their  work  and  they  swarmed  up  with  hideous  buzzings 
as  we  approached  each  spot  where  a  victim  lay. 

This  was  not  the  worst.  In  four  of  the  nests  young 
orphan  birds  could  be  seen.  They  were  clamoring  piteously 
for  food  which  their  dead  parents  could  never  again  bring 
them.  A  little  one  was  discovered  which,  now  past  suffer- 


LEVY,  THE  STOKY  OF  AN  EGEET  159 

ing,  lay  with  its  head  and  neck  hanging  out  of  a  nest. 
On  higher  ground  the  embers  of  a  fire,  and  the  scattered 
straw  where  a  horse  had  been  fed,  gave  evidence  of  the 
plume  hunter's  recent  camp. 

The  plume  feathers  of  each  bird  killed  were  worth  at 
that  time  ninety  cents  in  Jacksonville.  From  there  they 
were  shipped  to  certain  great  millinery  houses  in  New 
York,  where  in  due  time  they  were  placed  on  the  market 
and  sold  as  ' '  aigrettes ' '  for  decorations  on  ladies '  bonnets. 

Egrets  are  shy  and  difficult  to  approach  at  all  times, 
save  when  in  the  neighborhood  of  their  nests.  Here  the 
poor  birds  are  loath  to  leave  their  young,  and  return  again 
and  again  within  range  of  the  concealed  hunter's  gun.  It 
is  during  the  season  of  rearing  their  young  that  the  plumes 
are  at  their  finest,— another  reason  why  the  hunters  seek 
to  kill  the  birds  in  their  breeding  places. 

Possibly  all  twelve  of  the  egrets  which  lived  here  were 
slain.  It  may  be  that  some  of  them  escaped  and  fled  to 
wilder  recesses  of  the  swamps.  At  any  rate  no  more  were 
found  about  the  heronry  in  the  woods  that  year.  The  bird 
which  haunted  the  lake  shore  and  the  ones  seen  in  the 
marshes  did  not  come  again  to  feed  in  their  old  wading 
places. 

The  next  spring  I  visited  the  nesting  site  of  the  egrets 
but  found  only  the  old  nests  fast  falling  to  decay.  Rarely 


160  STOBIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

is  an  egret  now  seen  about  the  waters  of  Horse  Prairie. 
When  man  comes  and  slaughters  and  exterminates, 
Nature  does  not  restore. 

THOUGHT  QUESTIONS 

Have  you  ever  seen  an  egret?  The  egret  gets  its  living  as  it  wades  about 
in  the  shallow  water.  What  do  you  suppose  it  eats?  Have  you  seen  the 
"aigrettes"  on  ladies'  hats?  If  you  had  known  Levy  do  you  think  you 
would  care  for  aigrettes  on  your  hat? 


THE  QUEST  FOR  THE  COEMOKANT'S  NEST 


LONG  black  line  appeared 
upon  the  horizon  and  bore 
down  upon  us,  a  pulsating, 
waving  battalion  of  three 
hundred  great  birds  fly- 
ing abreast.  Over  the 
waves  of  Pamlico  Sound 
they  came,  their  long 
wings  almost  touching 
the  water  with  every 
stroke.  From  the  deck 
of  our  vessel  we  watched 
them  cross  our  bows,  as 
they  winged  their  way  far 
into  the  glare  of  the  sink- 
ing sun  to  a  spot  where  a 
low-lying  island  of  shells 
reared  its  back  above  the  water.  Here  among  hundreds  of 
their  fellows  they  alighted,  and  drawing  their  sable  wings 
about  them  sought  the  rest  and  sleep  which  the  night  should 
bring. 

This  island  is  situated  in  a  nook  of  the  North  Carolina 

[161] 


162  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

coast  called  Yesocking  Bay.  It  was  the  roosting  place  not 
only  for  the  cormorants  which  fed  in  the  neighborhood,  but 
also  for  those  which  mustered  from  all  the  region  lying 
between  Roanoke  Island  on  the  north  and  Hatteras  Inlet 
on  the  southeast.  About  these  waters  they  lived,  singly  or 
in  flocks,  and  procured  their  living  by  diving  and  captur- 
ing their  prey  from  the  abundant  schools  of  fish,  such 
as  the  shad,  herring  and  menhaden,  which  swarm  in  the 
sound.  In  spring  they  are  supposed  to  leave  for  the  North, 
and  it  has  been  said  by  ornithologists  that  the  summer 
home  of  the  cormorant  did  not  extend  to  North  Carolina. 

A  few  weeks  later  we  again  approached  the  island  as 
the  sun  went  down,  and  as  no  cormorants  were  seen  gath- 
ering there,  we  might  have  been  led  to  suppose  that  they 
had  all  departed  for.  the  North,  not  to  return  until  the 
autumn.  However,  we  found  it  to  be  otherwise.  Sailing 
down  the  sound,  we  could  see  here  and  there  seated  on  a 
channel  stake  or  buoy  a  great  black  bird,  rearing  its  head 
on  a  long  slender  neck  nearly  three  feet  above  its  perch. 
Now  and  then  one  would  rise  from  the  water  and,  making- 
straight  for  the  mainland,  would  disappear  in  the  forests 
on  the  shore.  They  were  especially  numerous  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Beaufort,  where  the  people  from  long  famili- 
arity with  the  birds  have  named  them  "Nigger  Geese,"  or 
"Bogue  Sound  Lawyers." 


THE   QUEST  FOR  THE   CORMORANT 's   NEST  163 

We  had  often  thought  and  often  tried  to  prove  that 
about  the  inland  lakes  a  few  miles  from  the  coast,  or  in 
some  of  the  fresh-water  swamps,  these  birds  must  rear 
their  young.  That  spring  we  had  gone  into  the  swamps 
and  searched  about  the  lakes  from  the  upper  end  of  Albe- 
marle  Sound  southward  along  the  coast  one  hundred  miles 
or  more,  to  Old  Topsail  Inlet.  For  eight  weeks  the  search 
was  in  vain;  the  secret  breeding  place  of  the  cormorants 
was  still  unknown. 

One  morning  late  in  May  our  expedition  moved  away 
from  the  railway  station  of  Havelock  and  headed  south- 
ward through  the  pine  forests  of  Craven  county.  After 
ten  miles  of  travel  through  a  barren  country  with  scarce 
a  human  inhabitant,  we  halted  near  an  old  plantation. 
Our  light  canoe  was  launched  in  a  large  ditch  dug  by  negro 
hands  to  drain  the  land  in  the  days  of  slavery.  Sitting 
flat  in  the  bottom  of  the  canoe  we  presently  emerged  from 
the  shadows  of  the  cypress  swamp  and  passed  out  upon 
the  shallow  waters  of  Lake  Ellis. 

Then  for  three  miles  we  paddled,  while  blackbirds  and 
marsh  hens  called  to  us  from  the  reeds  along  the  shores  and 
the  islands,  and  great  white  egrets  floated  like  fragments 
of  snowy  clouds  across  the  sky  above,  or  viewed  us  from 
some  far  standing  cypress  top.  On  the  west  side  of  the 
lake  the  canoe  was  taken  from  the  water,  and  we  pushed 


164  STOKIES  OF  BIKD  LIFE 

on  another  mile,  first  over  a  marsh,  then  through  a  tangled 
jungle  of  vines  and  forest  trees,  the  guide  carrying  the 
canoe  inverted  over  his  head.  Here  the  tracks  of  the  wild 
deer  and  gray  squirrels  were  abundant. 

Again  our  canoe  was  launched  and  we  found  ourselves 
floating  upon  the  body  of  water  known  as  Big  Lake.  For 
seven  miles  it  spread  before  us,  a  beautiful  rippling  sheet. 
For  two-thirds  the  distance  the  shore  is  lined  by  a  dense 
cypress  swamp,  the  remaining  portion  being  clothed  with 
a  barren  pine  pocoson.  The  timber  everywhere  grows 
down  to  the  water's  edge,  and  many  cypress  trees  and 
stumps  stand  well  out  from  shore  like  giant  forest  mon- 
archs  who  have  waded  knee  deep  into  the  cooling  lake. 
Many  of  these  contain  the  immense  nests  of  the  osprey, 
the  fierce  fish  eagle  of  the  ocean  and  lakes. 

Herons  also,  of  several  species,  had  built  nests  for  their 
young  here  and  there  on  the  boughs  of  the  overhang- 
ing trees.  Probably  not  more  than  once  or  twice  a  year 
does  a  boat  of  any  kind  ever  float  on  this  secluded  lake. 
There  are  no  dwelling  houses  for  miles  around  and  the 
wild  creatures  here  are  seldom  disturbed.  A  doe  and  her 
fawn  coming  down  to  the  water  to  drink  eyed  us  from  a 
distance  for  many  minutes  before  taking  fright.  Two  large 
alligators  floated  quietly  in  our  course,  making  no  effort  to 


THE   QUEST   FOR   THE    CORMORANT  '&   NEST  165 

keep  from  sight  until  the  double  discharge  of  my  gun 
awoke  the  echoes  along  the  shore. 

In  this  region  my  guide  had  said  that  we  should  surely 
find  the  nests  of  the  "nigger  geese,"  and  it  certainly 


seemed  that  at  last  we  might  be  approaching  the  summer 
haunts  of  the  cormorant,  for  the  place  appeared  free 
enough  from  the  intrusions  of  man  to  suit  the  tastes  of  the 
wildest  bird.  And  we  found  them!  Low  spreading 
cypress  trees,  their  tops  reaching  as  a  rule  not  more  than 
twelve  or  fifteen  feet  above  the  water,  were  the  sites  chosen 
for  the  nests.  Eighteen  trees,  scattered  along  the  shore 
for  a  mile  and  a  half,  were  thus  used.  A  few  trees  con- 
tained only  one  nest  each,  some  were  occupied  by  two, 
while  in  others  six,  eight,  ten,  and  even  twelve  nests  were 
noted.  One  tree  contained  thirty-eight  cormorant  houses, 
each  with  its  eggs  or  young  birds.  The  number  of  occu- 
pants to  the  nest  was  in  all  cases  either  two  or  three.  One 
hundred  and  fifty  inhabited  nests  were  counted. 


166  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

In  color  the  eggs  are  a  pale  bluish  white  overlaid  with  a 
more  or  less  soft  calcareous  coating,  and  measure  about  two 
and  a  half  inches  in  length  by  one  and  a  half  in  width.  The 
nests  were  made  entirely  of  dead  twigs  and  small  branches, 
with  often  a  few  green  twigs  and  leaves  placed  at  the  top. 
The  structures  were  usually  about  one  foot  across. 

The  food  of  the  cormorant  at  this  season  of  the  year  must 
consist  largely  of  the  common  eel.  In  nearly  every  nest 
signs  of  the  eel's  remains  were  seen.  The  young  birds 
upon  becoming  excited  would  disgorge  fragments  of  eel 
flesh.  An  old  bird  which  was  captured  had  the  slime  of 
eels  about  her  head,  neck  and  bill.  We  tried  for  a  time  to 
keep  this  fierce,  wild  mother  cormorant,  but  she  bit  so  fear- 
fully, and  struggled  so  constantly,  beating  the  air  with  her 
large  black  wings  and  tail,  and  scratched  so  seriously  with 
the  sharp  nails  on  her  large  webbed  feet,  that  we  were  soon 
glad  to  liberate  her. 

The  young  birds  were  covered  with  black  down,  and 
many  of  them  were  large  enough  to  leave  their  nests  and 
climb  about  the  branches  of  the  trees.  In  doing  this  they 
would  often  lose  their  balance  on  the  limbs  while  endeavor- 
ing to  escape,  but  instead  of  falling  into  the  water  the  hook 
at  the  point  of  their  long  bills  would  invariably  catch  on 
the  perch,  and  by  dint  of  much  scratching  the  birds  would 
soon  regain  their  former  position.  Queer  fellows  were 


THE  QUEST  FOR  THE   CORMORANT  S  NEST 


167 


these  baby  ' '  nigger  geese, ' '  which  were  being  reared  here 
amid  the  wild  surroundings  of  a  Carolina  lake. 

Cormorants  live  in  almost  all  countries  of  the  world.  To 
find  them,  however,  one  must  look  along  the  sea  coast  or 
about  large  lakes  where  the  supply  of  fish  is  abundant. 
There  are  twen- 
ty-five kinds  of 
cormorants, 
and  they  all 
bear  a  close  re- 
semblance. 
They  have 
heavy  bodies, 
long  necks  and 
short  stout  legs. 
While  perched 
they  stand  very 
erect  and  the 
s  t  i  fT  feathers 
of  their  tails 
serve  as  a  prop, 
or  a  kind  of  third  leg,  for  their  support.  The  feathers  of 
nearly  all  species  are  glossy  black. 

In  China  the  people  have  learned  that  cormorants  can 
be  tamed  and  taught  to  be  very  useful  as  domestic  animals. 


168  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

The  way  in  which  the  birds  serve  their  masters  is  this: 
They  are  taken  to  a  river  or  lake,  a  strap  is  placed  about 
their  necks,  and  they  are  liberated.  Once  in  the  water  they 
dive  in  quest  of  fish.  When  one  comes  to  the  surface  with 
a  struggling  victim  in  its  mouth,  and  finds  itself  unable  to 
swallow  its  prey  on  account  of  the  strap,  it  at  once  swims 
to  the  boat  and  the  boatmen  relieve  it  of  its  prize.  Once 
free,  the  faithful  fisherman  again  dives  beneath  the  sur- 
face, only  to  repeat  the  performance. 

We  have  not  yet  learned  to  tame  the  cormorants  in  our 
country  and  make  use  of  them  as  do  the  Chinese.  The  old 
birds  we  saw  that  day  on  Big  Lake  were  far  from  being 
tame.  Upon  our  approach  they  left  their  nests  and,  after 
flying  wildly  about  for  some  time,  settled  on  the  water 
several  hundred  yards  away.  Here  they  remained  until, 
as  we  passed  on  around  the  lake,  they  left  the  water  in  a 
body  and  rising  gradually,  went  winging  rapidly  back  to 
their  ancient  breeding  grounds,  back  to  their  hungry,  clam- 
oring young. 

THOUGHT  QUESTIONS 

What  is  the  largest  bird  you  have  ever  seen  ?  Do  you  think  it  was  larger 
than  a  cormorant?  Can  you  name  any  birds  besides  cormorants  that  eat 
fish  and  eels?  What  other  birds  can  you  recall  that  are  black?  What  other 
birds  and  domestic  fowls  have  webbed  feet  ?  Where  do  web-footed  birds  live  ? 


CUCKOO,  THE  RAIN  PROPHET 

NE  cloudy  autumn  af- 
ternoon while  strolling 
along  a  woodland  path 
I  heard  a  weird 
mournful  voice  plain- 
tively calling  for 
many  minutes.  The 
sound  seemed  to  come 
from  a  cluster  of  trees 
across  the  glen  near 
by.  After  a  little  time 

% 

I  came  up  with  the 
sorrowing  creature 
and  found  it  seated  on  the  drooping 
bough  of  an  old  gnarled  oak.  It  was  a  yellow-billed 
cuckoo. 

Some  of  our  birds  had  already  departed  for  their  winter 
visit  to  the  tropics,  but  the  cuckoo  still  tarried  in  the  haunts 
of  its  summer  home.  It  seemed  to  feel  the  solitude  of  the 
autumn  forest,  and  although  its  voice  is  seldom  heard  at 
this  time  of  year,  it  was  now  chanting  its  plaintive  cry  as  if 

[169]  % 


170  STORIES  OF   BIRD  LIFE 

its  heart  was  breaking  at  the  thought  that  summer  was 
over.  It  was  sitting  crosswise  on  the  limb  and  was  motion- 
less except  for  a  slight  upward  impulse  of  the  body  each 
time  it  called. 

As  it  did  not  see  me  at  first,  there  was  good  opportunity 
to  notice  its  appearance.  It  was  about  the  size  of  a  robin 
but  was  more  slender ;  its  long  tail  was  over  half  the  entire 
length  of  the  bird.  Its  legs  were  short,  and  its  small  feet 
grasped  the  limb  on  which  it  sat,  with  two  toes  extending 
outward  in  front,  and  two  behind.  The  bird's  back  and 
wings  were  olive  brown,  and  its  under  parts  were  a  dull 
whitish  color.  The  outer  tail  feathers  were  black  with 
white  tips.  Its  bill,  which  appeared  to  be  nearly  an  inch 
long,  was  black  above  and  yellow  beneath. 

Soon  the  bird  detected  the  presence  of  an  intruder.  For 
a  few  moments  it  eyed  me,  as  the  cuckoo  will  often  do,  in 
a  dazed  kind  of  way,  all  the  time  slowly  raising  and  lower- 
ing its  long  tail ;  then  swiftly  it  flew  and  vanished  through 
the  foliage.  It  could  not  have  gone  very  far ;  for  as  I  went 
farther  along  the  path,  from  the  distance  there  came  to 
my  ears  the  faint  murmuring,  "Cow,  cow,  cow/'  of  the  sad, 
mysterious  bird. 

The  cuckoo  always  leads  a  mournful,  secluded  life.  If 
we  chance  to  see  it  at  any  time  while  it  is  with  us,  from 
May  to  October,  it  will  most  probably  be  observed  silently 


CUCKOO,  THE  RAIN  PROPHET  171 

slipping  from  the  cover  of  one  tree  or  thicket  to  that  of 
another,  generally  alone,  and  frequently  uttering  the  harsh 
guttural  note  from  which  it  has  long  since  acquired  the 
name  ' '  rain  crow. ' '  I  never  have  understood  why  it  should 
be  called  a  crow.  Certainly  it  does  not  resemble  the  crows 
in  our  country  either  in  voice,  appearance,  or  manner  of 
life. 

The  cuckoo  is  often  heard  calling  on  cloudy  days,  or 
just  before  rains,  and  for  this  reason  it  is  usually  accred- 
ited with  the  power  of  foretelling  the  coming  shower.  It 
cannot  sing;  but  it  has  some  notes  peculiarly  its  own, 
which,  once  heard,  are  not  easily  forgotten.  "Tut-tut, 
tut-tut,"  it  seems  to  say,  " cl-uck-cl-uck,  cow,  cow,  cow." 

In  Europe  there  is  a  bird  called  the  cuckoo.  It  is  larger 
than  our  bird  by  that  name  and,  besides,  is  a  very  pretty 
singer.  It  is  not  shy;  so  a  great  many  people  are  ac- 
quainted with  its  habits.  It  was  well  known  when  the  Bible 
was  written,  and  you  can  find  its  name  in  the  list  of  animals 
which  the  Children  of  Israel  were  forbidden  to  eat. 
Shakespeare  in  one  of  his  plays  tells  us  about  the  cuckoo 's 
young.  Some  of  the  English  poets  speak  of  its  singing. 

The  earliest  English  lyric  poem  begins  in  this  way : 

"Summer  is  i-cumen  [coming]  in, 
Lhude  [loud]  sings  cuccuj 
Groweth  sed  [seed] 


172  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LITE 

And  bloweth  med  [mead], 

And  springeth  the  wde  [wood]   nu  [now] 

Sing  cuccu." 

Of  all  the  tales  told  on  the  English  birds,  the  one  relat- 
ing to  the  nesting  habits  of  the  cuckoo  must  reflect  the 
least  credit  on  the  accused. 

In  the  spring  when  the  nesting  time  for  birds  arrives  it 
does  not  build  a  nest  for  itself,  but  quietly  steals  away  and 
deposits  its  eggs  secretly  in  the  nests  of  other  birds.  There 
the  eggs  are  incubated  and  the  young  are  reared  by  the 
foster  parents.  While  the  cuckoo  thus  saves  itself  the  labor 
of  building  a  nest  and  the  anxiety  of  caring  for  the  young, 
it  has  gained  for  itself  an  unpleasant  notoriety,  possessed 
by  few  other  birds.  In  this  country  the  black  cowbird  has 
the  same  habit. 

Our  yellow-billed  cuckoo  has  learned  the  art  of  nest 
building  but  poorly,  the  nest  in  which  the  young  are  reared 
being  little  more  than  a  mere  platform  of  twigs.  Indeed, 
so  thin  and  frail  a  structure  is  it,  that  the  eggs  can  often  be 
counted  through -the  nest  from  beneath.  It  is  usually 
placed  on  some  sheltering  limb  or  among  thick  vines.  The 
eggs  are  nearly  an  inch  and  a  quarter  long  and  are  about 
three-fourths  as  wide.  They  vary  from  two  to  four  in 
number,  and  their  color  is  greenish  blue.  Many  birds  lay 
their  eggs,  one  each  day,  with  great  regularity  until  the 


CUCKOO,  THE  RAIN  PKOPHET  173 

full  number  has  been  reached.  The  cuckoo,  however,  often 
allows  a  few  days  to  pass  after  she  begins  setting  on  some 
of  the  eggs  before  the  others  are  deposited.  Thus  there 
are  sometimes  found  a  young  bird,  an  incubated  egg,  and 
a  freshly  laid  egg,  all  in  the  same  nest. 

Among  the  branches  of  our  fruit  trees  we  may  sometimes 
see  large  webs  which  have  been 

made   by   the   tent-caterpillars.        r^S&tf^lto,.  fltf 
An  invading  host  seems  to  have 
come    and    pitched    its    tents 
among  the  boughs  on  all  sides.    Caterpillars 
are  quite  destructive  to  trees,  and  the  cuckoos 
do  us  a  great  favor  by  coming  often  to  raid  the 
encampment.    They  pull  the  little  hairy  intruders 
out  of  their  tents  by  hundreds,  and  eat  them.    So 
many  are  eaten  by  these  birds  that  their  stomachs 
are  often  found  to  be  thickly  coated  with  a  layer 
of  caterpillar  hairs.    Cuckoos  also  eat  grasshop- 
pers and  different  kinds  of  flies. 

In  some  parts  of  the  United  States,  especially  in  the 
South,  the  surface  of  the  country  is  quite  level  and  the  soil 
is  of  sand.  There  are  found  here  large  tracts  of  pine  wood- 
land, sometimes  with  no  other  kinds  of  trees  growing  near. 
In  these  great  pine  forests  the  cuckoos  are  seldom  seen; 
and  in  such  regions,  if  we  wish  to  find  them,  we  must  search 


174  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

by  the  lakes  and  along  the  streams  where  other  kinds  of 
trees  are  growing. 

The  cuckoo  family  is  a  numerous  one.  There  are  one 
hundred  and  seventy-five  known  species,  thirty-five  of 
which  are  found  in  the  New  World.  In  the  United  States 
we  have  three  species.  These  are  the  yellow-billed  cuckoo, 
the  black-billed  cuckoo,  and  the  mangrove  cuckoo.  The 
latter  does  not  occur  in  large  numbers. 

THOUGHT  QUESTIONS 

How  early  in  the  spring  have  you  seen  the  cuckoo?  Does  it  live  among 
the  trees,  or  in  open  places  ?  How  does  the  cuckoo  fly,  slow  or  fast,  high  or 
low?  Is  the  cuckoo  useful  to  fruit  growers?  If  so,  how?  What  kinds  of 
notes  does  it  make?  Do  cuckoos  ever  go  in  flocks?  Do  they  ever  fly  about 
at  night  like  an  owl  ?  What  is  the  bird  called  in  your  neighborhood  ? 


176 


RUFFLE-BREAST,  THE  SHRIKE 


UFFLE-BREAST  was  the  name 
given  by  some  boys  to  a  logger- 
head shrike  which  lived  a  few 
years  ago  about  the  fields  and 
orange  groves  of  a  small  town  in 
Florida.  The  bir$  was  so 
called  on  account  of  the  pecu- 
liar appearance  of  its  breast, 
there  being  a  row  of  feathers 
across  the  front  which  ap- 
peared to  have  grown  in  the 
wrong  direction,  thus  rendering  it 
impossible  for  the  breast  to  be  smooth 
as  in  other  birds. 

Our  first  acquaintance  with  Ruffle-Breast  was  made  in 
this  way.  A  pair  of  shrikes  one  season  built  their  nest  in 
the  main  fork  of  a  small  oak  tree  growing  near  one  of  the 
public  highways  which  led  into  the  village.  No  one  dis- 
turbed the  nest  until  the  eggs  were  hatched  and  the  young 
had  been  fed  for  some  time.  One  day  a  boy  climbed  into 

the  tree  to  see  the  little  birds.    As  he  did  so  the  nest  seemed 

[177] 


178  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

to  explode  like  a  bomb  as  the  five  frightened  young  shrikes 
launched  out  suddenly  into  the  world  on  their  untried 
wings.  One  gained  the  lower  limb  of  a  neighboring  tree. 
Another  reached  the  middle  rail  of  a  fence.  A  third,  while 
vainly  trying  to  cling  to  the  side  of  a  hitching-post,  fell 
scratching  and  fluttering  to  the  ground. 

The  resemblance  of  these  young  birds  to  each  other  was 
strong.  The  feathers  of  their  backs  were  grayish  brown 
and  those  of  the  breast  were  white,  marked  with  dusky 
bars.  Their  wings  and  tails  were  brownish-black  and  a 
dusky  stripe  was  on  the  side  of  each  stout  chubby  head. 
Their  beaks  were  sharp,  hooked,  dangerous  looking  weap- 
ons. 

The  one  which  sat  in  the  crack  of  the  fence  had  an  odd 
ruff  of  feathers  on  its  breast,  which  distinguished  it  from 
all  other  shrikes.  Many  times  during  the  next  few  weeks 
the  shrike  family  was  seen.  The  little  ones  were  soon 
strong  upon  the  wing,  and  had  learned  to  catch  grass- 
hoppers and  other  insects  for  themselves.  But  so  long  as 
there  existed  the  slightest  chance  of  their  being  able  to 
secure  food  from  their  parents,  they  never  failed  to  beg 
with  pitiful  voices  and  quivering  wings  whenever  either 
parent  was  near.  As  the  summer  advanced  the  family 
became  separated  and  scattered. 

Now  the  brownish  tinge  left  the  feathers  of  the  breast 


BUFFLE-BKEAST,   THE   SHKIKE  179 

and  back,  and  each  became  in  fact  a  grown  bird.  Their 
general  appearance  was  now  not  wholly  unlike  the  mock- 
ing bird  for  which  they  are  sometimes  mistaken  by  casual 
observers.  Ruffle-Breast  was  seen  less  frequently  now, 
and  in  the  autumn  it  finally  disappeared  from  its  haunts 
of  babyhood  and  I  saw  it  no  more  for  a  time. 

Early  the  next  spring  while  crossing  a  field  in  which 
stood  a  few  neglected  orange  trees,  I  heard  the  eager  calls 
of  a  shrike  issuing  from  among  the  leaves  of  one  of  the 
smaller  trees.  The  notes  were  recognizable  as  those  of  a 
male  anxiously  seeking  to  assist  its  mate  in  selecting  a 
suitable  nesting  site.  Just  then  the  female  alighted  on  a 
neighboring  tree  with  an  answering  call.  I  looked  up  and 
there  before  me  sat  Ruffle-Breast,  my  old  acquaintance; 
she  of  the  fence  crack.  It  was  a  great  pleasure  to  meet  her 
thus  with  a  mate  and  the  prospect  of  a  nest  not  half  a  mile 
from  her  own  birthplace. 

A  crotch  in  the  orange  tree  six  or  seven  feet  from  the 
ground  was  settled  upon  as  a  suitable  site  for  a  nest,  and 
at  once  the  construction  of  a  home  for  their  eggs  began. 
First,  twigs  and  small  weed  stalks  were  brought,  and  on 
the  platform  made  by  these,  other  materials,  such  as  grass 
blades,  roots,  strings  and  pieces  of  cotton  were  placed  and 
woven  tightly  and  snugly  together.  Finally  the  structure 
was  completed  by  a  layer  of  soft  chicken  feathers.  Then 


180  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

the  mother  laid  her  eggs,  brown-speckled  beauties,  one 
each  day  until  there  were  five  in  the  nest. 

During  the  two  weeks,  or  a  little  over,  occupied  in  incu- 
bating the  eggs,  Ruffle-Breast  was  seldom  seen,  and  was 
never  away  from  the  orange  tree  long  at  a  time.  Usually 
her  mate  could  be  found  in  the  vicinity  of  the  nest,  perched 
on  some  tree  top  or  high  fence  stake  silently  watching  for 
insects  to  appear  in  the  grass  or  on  the  ploughed  field; 
for  the  shrike  never  hunts  its  food,  but  waits  patiently 
until  its  prey  comes  within  reach  and  then  pounces  upon  it. 
Sometimes  the  bird  will  pause  in  mid-air  on  hovering 
wings  and  scan  the  earth  below  for  the  sight  of  some 
coveted  prize. 

Upon  capturing  a  grasshopper  or  cricket  or  beetle,  the 
shrike  often  impales  it  upon  a  thorn  and,  using  this  as  a 
sort  of  tablefork  to  hold  its  victim,  proceeds  to  make  a 
meal.  If  not  hungry  it  will  leave  its  prey  thus  transfixed 
for  hours,  returning  later  in  the  day  to  eat  it.  From  this 
habit  of  hanging  up  food  and  leaving  it,  the  bird  has  long 
since  acquired  the  name  of  "  Butcherbird. ' '  During  the 
colder  part  of  the  year  when  there  are  few  insects  to  be 
procured  the  shrike  subsists  mainly  on  other  kinds  of 
animal  life.  It  catches  mice,  and  even  small  birds  at  times 
fall  beneath  its  strong  beak.  I  once  saw  a  shrike  endeavor- 
ing to  carry  away  a  small  dead  chicken. 


RUFFLE-BREAST,   THE    SHRIKE  181 

One  afternoon  while  watching  a  company  of  feeding 
sparrows,  Ruffle-Breast,  who  chanced  to  be  roving  about 
the  field,  perched  on  a  tall  stake  near  by.  At  the  first  sound 
of  her  harsh  grating  voice  the  sparrows  became  nervous. 
Two  or  three  fled  to  the  friendly  cover  of  a  cedar  tree,  but 
the  others  remained  where  they  were,  moving  cautiously 
about  in  the  grass  and  speaking  only  in  subdued  tones. 
Their  uneasiness  continued  until  the  shrike  resumed  her 
journey  across  the  field.  The  sparrows  did  not  regard  her 
with  the  terror  which  they  would  have  shown  had  the 
visitor  been  a  hawk,  nor  with  the  unconcern  which  they 
certainly  would  have  manifested  towards  a  crow,  but  the 
feeling  seemed  to  prevail  in  the  company  that  they  did  not 
care  to  be  observed  by  her.  Perhaps  they  felt  much  as 
children  do  when  playing  in  a  yard  and  a  large  and  much 
dreaded  dog  passes  along  the  sidewalk. 

A  few  days  later  I  had  an  opportunity  to  observe  an 
incident  which  showed  clearly  that  the  sparrows  had 
abundant  reason  to  dread  the  fierce  gray  bird  which 
prowled  about  their  feeding  ground.  I  noticed  a  bird 
flying  heavily  across  the  field.  It  seemed  to  be  carrying 
something  which  hindered  its  flight,  for  every  few  yards  it 
would  light  on  the  ground.  Presently  it  reached  the  edge 
of  the  woods  and  perched  among  the  limbs  of  a  fallen  pine 
tree.  Upon  a  near  approach  I  found  the  bird  to  be  none 


182  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

other  than  Ruffle-Breast,  the  shrike.  She  was  tugging  on 
one  of  the  limbs  at  an  object  which  she  seemed  reluctant 
to  leave.  When  she  flew  I  found  that  the  burden  she  had 
carried  to  the  tree  was  a  chipping  sparrow.  It  had  been 
thrust  on  a  sharp  splinter  protruding  from  one  of  the 
broken  limbs  and  the  bird  had  already  begun  to  feed  upon 
it.  The  skull  had  been  broken  open  at  the  base.  The 
brains  and  parts  of  flesh  from  the  neck  had  been  eaten. 
A  little  villain  she  was  indeed !  Yet  she  was  no  worse  than 
other  shrikes,  and  during  the  two  years  of  my  acquaint- 
ance with  her  she  was  ever  a  faithful  and  gentle  mother  to 
her  little  ones. 

She  reared  two  broods  that  summer ;  the  first  nest  con- 
taining five  eggs,  the  second  six.  One  spring  her  second 
nest  was  disturbed  by  a  boy  who  thought  it  belonged  to  a 
mocking  bird.  He  took  the  eggs,  saying  that  he  was  going 
to  hatch  them  under  a  hen.  Ruffle-Breast  and  her  mate 
then  left  the  orange  tree  and  sought  a  safer  place  for  their 
home  on  the  limb  of  a  pine  thirty  feet  from  the  earth. 

It  was  interesting  to  watch  these  birds  fly  to  their  nest. 
Across  the  field  one  would  come  with  rapidly  beating 
wings,  flying  close  to  the  ground  until  near  the  pine,  when 
with  a  sudden  upward  sweep  it  would  rise,  climbing  the 
invisible  ladder  of  the  air  to  its  nest.  Sometimes  the  father 
bird  would  attempt  to  sing  in  an  odd,  squeaking,  guttural 


RUFFLE-BREAST,   THE   SHRIKE  183 

manner.  Such  attempts  were  performed  apparently  with 
great  effort,  and  the  music  produced  was  never  of  a  very 
high  order. 

In  going  through  the  pine  woods  of  Florida  the  traveler 
often  comes  upon  a  negro  cabin  in  a  small  clearing.  Here 
are  usually  growing  two  or  three  orange  trees,  a  Spanish 
bayonet  plant,  and  perhaps  a  dozen  live  oak  trees  of  differ- 
ent sizes.  For  the  past  two  miles  of  his  journey  the  traveler 
has  found  no  shrike,  but  here  at  this  diminutive  plantation, 
if  the  season  be  Marck,  he  is  sure  to  hear  a  loggerhead 
calling  loudly  and  continuously  from  the  top  spray  of  some 
tree,  or  flying  down  before  him  to  seize  a  beetle  or  grass- 
hopper from  the  grass.  A  search  in  the  orange  or  oak 
trees  will  soon  reveal  its  nest,  a  wonderfully  strong  affair 
built  of  sticks  and  vines  and  a  great  quantity  of  chicken 
feathers. 

Farther  on  a  shallow  pond  is  found,  about  whose  shores 
are  growing  a  few  water  oak  trees.  Here  is  another  good 
place  to  look  for  the  loggerhead's  nest.  Thus  one  may 
move  on  for  days  through  the  high  pine  woods  and  rarely 
see  a  shrike  except  about  the  farms  or  ponds  where  the 
thick  foliage  of  the  orange  or  oak  trees  furnish  them  with 
suitable  nesting  places. 

THOUGHT  QUESTIONS 

What  time  of  year  do  you  see  the  shrike?    Do  shrikes  prefer  sparrows  to 


184  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

other  kinds  of  food?  Do  you  know  of  any  other  birds  besides  hawks  and 
owls  that  sometimes  kill  and  eat  small  birds?  On  the  whole  do  you  regard 
the  shrike  as  a  good  bird  or  not  ?  Does  the  shrike  rear  its  young  where  you 
live?  Is  the  shrike's  sharp-hooked  beak  fitted  for  pecking  in  the  bark  of 
trees  like  a  woodpecker's? 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  LONGLEGS 


N  the  banks  of  a  certain  river  in  the  South,  a 
few  miles  from  its  mouth,  lies  a  large  rice 
plantation  with  its  broad  fields  extending  along  the  bottom 
lands.  Half  a  mile  from  the  river  is  a  bluff,  which  at  some 
remote  date  may  have  served  as  the  bank  of  a  much  larger 
stream.  There  on  the  high  ground,  surrounded  by  mag- 
nificent live  oaks,  stands  the  large  house  of  the  planter. 
Behind  the  mansion  is  a  garden,  and  behind  the  garden  are 
more  rice  fields,  while  beyond  these  stretch  away  for  miles 
unbroken  forests  of  pine  and  cypress. 

One  summer  while  visiting  here  I  noticed  about  the  rice 
fields  numerous  large  birds  wading  in  the  shallow  water. 
All  seemed  stilted  on  long,  slender  legs.  Occasionally 
one  would  thrust  out  its  snakelike  neck  and  strike  at  some- 

[185] 


186  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

thing  in  the  water  with  its  sharp  bill.  Evidently  they  were 
feeding  on  the  small  fish  which  were  so  abundant  here. 
Three  species  of  birds  t3ould  be  seen.  One  of  these  slender 
waders,  which  stood  about  twenty  inches  high,  was  of  a 
dark  slaty  blue  in  color.  This  was  the  little  blue  heron. 
Another  variety  of  similar  size  and  form  had  wings  and 
neck  marked  with  varying  shades  of  brown,  gray  and 
white,  while  its  entire  under  parts  were  yellowish  white. 
This  was  the  Louisiana  heron,  the  bird  which  on  account  of 
its  rare  beauty  and  elegance  of  movement  is  sometimes 
called  '  '  lady-of-the-waters. ' '  The  largest  of  all  the  birds 
were  nearly  four  feet  tall.  These,  the  people  of  the  plan- 
tation declared,  were  "blue  cranes,"  but  they  were,  in 
reality,  great  blue  herons. 

Now  and  then  one  of  the  birds  would  rise  from  the  feed- 
ing grounds,  fold  its  long  neck,  stretch  its  legs  out  behind, 
and  come  flying  in  from  the  river  high  overhead,  making 
straight  for  the  forest.  Sometimes  one  would  come  from 
the  opposite  direction  and  drop  down  into  the  rice  fields. 
It  seemed  odd  that  so  many  should  be  coming  and  going  in 
the  same  manner.  Upon  inquiring  the  cause,  my  host  ex- 
plained that  back  in  the  woods  there  was  a  place  where 
each  year  the  birds  congregated  in  great  numbers  to  build 
their  nests  and  rear  their  offspring.  "These  you  see  fly- 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  LONGLEGS  187 

ing  over,"  he  continued,  "are  old  ones  carrying  food  to 
their  young." 

One  day  he  took  me  to  visit  this  annual  gathering  place 
of  the  herons.  On  the  rear  side  of  the  plantation  is  a  pond 
formed  by  a  stream  which  was  dammed  to  furnish  water 
for  flooding  the  rice  fields.  It  extends  for  a  mile  or  more 
into  the  woods.  At  the  upper  end  it  divides  into  three 
branches,  which  like  long  arms  reach  back  into  the  wilder- 
ness for  a  considerable  distance.  At  the  far  end  of  one  of 
these  arms  the  herons  had  their  city. 

In  a  growth  of  young  cypress  trees  covering  an  area  of 
not  more  than  an  acre  their  nests  were  built.  As  we  ap- 
proached, the  birds  could  be  seen  in  numbers  flying  from 
place  to  place.  Many  were  resting  on  the  branches  of  the 
trees  while  others  were  feeding  their  young.  Two  inquisi- 
tive fellows,  sentinels  possibly,  came  out  for  a  better  view 
of  us  and  our  boat,  but  soon  flew  hurriedly  back,  squawking 
loudly  as  they  went.  Their  sounds  of  alarm  could  not  have 
attracted  much  notice  amid  all  the  squeak-squawking  of 
those  hundreds  of  noisy  tenants  and  their  young,  for  the 
colony  as  a  whole  took  no  heed  of  our  arrival.  Only  those 
nearest  us  as  we  passed  took  fright. 

The  nests  of  the  little  blue  and  Louisiana  herons  were 
simply  slight  platforms  of  dead  twigs  placed  loosely  to- 
gether in  the  crotches  of  the  cypress  limbs,  from  four  to 


188  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

eight  feet  above  the  water.  Usually  they  were  not  over 
eight  or  ten  inches  across,  and  often  were  so  frail  that  the 
four  or  five  blue  eggs  they  contained  could  be  counted 
through  the  structure  from  beneath.  So  closely  do  the 
nests  and  eggs  of  these  birds  resemble  that  it  was  only  by 
hiding  and  watching  until  the  owners  came  that  we  were 
able  to  distinguish  between  them. 

In  many  cases  the  eggs  had  hatched.  The  young  blues, 
covered  with  white  down,  were  very  pretty  creatures. 
When  grown  their  feathers  are  white,  and  not  until  the 
summer  of  the  second  year  does  the  coat  of  blue  appear. 
In  some  cases  the  young  are  said  never  to  acquire  the  blue 
covering,  but  go  on  through  life  as  white  birds.  The  young 
Louisianas  resembled  their  parents  in  color;  only,  of 
course,  they  wore  suits  of  soft  down  instead  of  feathers. 

In  some  tall  trees  at  one  side  of  the  heronry  the  great 
blue  herons  had  built  their  large  platforms  of  nests  on  the 
horizontal  limbs  high  in  air,  and  their  great  babies  in  a 
dozen  or  more  places  were  seen  standing  gazing  silently  off 
through  the  forest  as  though  absorbed  in  thought.  So 
large  and  fine  looking  are  the  great  blues  that  my  friend 
called  them  the  ' '  kings ' '  of  the  city.  The  splendid  plumes 
of  their  heads  and  backs,  together  with  their  dignity  of 
bearing,  surely  bore  out  the  comparison. 

In  one  place  two  pairs  of  quite  different  herons,  together 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  LONGLEGS  189 

with  their  nests,  were  found.  They  were  nearly  as  tall  as 
the  great  blues,  but  the  special  feature  of  their  appearance 
was  their  coverings  of  beautiful  snowy  feathers.  These 
birds  were  American  egrets.  Long  white  plumes  growing 
on  their  backs  and  extending  far  beyond  their  tails  also 
added  to  their  attractiveness.  I  like  to  think  of  these  grace- 
ful creatures  as  the  queens  of  that  city. 

Wishing  to  get  a  peep  into  the  private  life  of  the  heronry, 
we  concealed  our  boat  among  the  low  trees  and  screened  our 
bodies  with  long  gray  moss  and  cypress  boughs.  Scarcely 
were  we  hidden  when  the  herons  began  to  return  to  their 
homes.  While  we  were  watching,  a  crow  flew  up  and 
alighted  near  a  nest  containing  eggs.  After  a  wicked 
glance  around  he  thrust  his  beak  into  an  egg,  and,  flying 
with  it  but  a  short  distance,  perched  and  deliberately  began 
to  eat  its  contents.  Finishing  his  egg  the  rascal  wiped  his 
bill  on  the  limb,  looked  about  for  a  minute  or  two,  and  then 
came  back  for  another  one.  The  distressed  heron  whose 
nest  was  being  plundered,  squawked  a  timid  resentment 
and  moved  away  as  the  intruder  approached.  That  day  we 
saw  five  or  six  crows  thus  engaged  in  pilfering  the  homes 
o.f  the  defenseless  herons. 

It  was  meal  time  with  each  brood  of  longlegs  whenever 
a  parent  arrived  from  the  rice  fields.  The  curious  manner 
in  which  the  young  were  fed  was  one  of  the  most  interest- 


190  STOKIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

ing  things  we  witnessed.  An  old  bird  upon  coming  home 
would  alight  on  the  edge  of  the  nest,  or  on  a  limb  close  at 
hand.  With  a  peculiar  pumping  motion  of  its  throat  it 
seemed  to  bring  the  food  up  its  long  neck  and  hold  it  in  its 
mouth  ready  for  the  little  ones  to  feed  upon.  One  at  a 
time  they  would  reach  up  and  thrust  their  bills  into  the 
open  mouth  of  their  parent  to  receive  their  portion. 

The  diet  of  the  baby  herons  must  have  consisted  largely 
of  small  fish,  for  when  we  attempted  to  row  our  boat  among 
the  tree  trunks  beneath  the  nests,  they  disgorged  large 
quantities  of  partially  digested  minnows,  possibly  in  their 
efforts  to  drive  us  away,  or  perhaps  because  of  their  great 
uneasiness.  In  fitful  streams  these  descended  upon  us, 
falling  in  the  boat,  in  our  laps,  in  our  pockets  or  down  our 
necks.  Our  journey  through  the  city  of  the  longlegs  was 
fraught  with  much  anxiety  and  watchfulness,  as  well  as 
peril  to  the  appearance  of  our  garments.  There  were  over 
one  thousand  occupied  nests  in  this  place. 

Probably  there  are  other  enemies  to  the  eggs  and  young 
birds  besides  crows.  In  one  nest  we  saw  a  large  water  snake 
lying  coiled  about  an  egg  quietly  enjoying  a  sun  bath.  We 
were  unable  to  learn,  however,  whether  snakes  eat  the  eggs 
of  the  heron.  The  eyes  and  snout  of  an  alligator  were  seen 
protruding  from  the  water  in  a  little  open  place  among  the 
tree  trunks.  Possibly  this  monster  lived  here  and  was 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  LONGLEGS  191 

ever  ready  to  snap  up  any  unfortunate  nestling  which 
might  fall  from  its  platform  of  twigs. 

The  feathers  of  herons  are  much  sought  for  decorating 
women's  bonnets.  Whole  colonies  of  nesting  birds  are 
sometimes  destroyed  for  this  purpose.  It  is  to  be  hoped 
that  no  plume  hunter  will  find  this  heronry  and  for  this 
reason  I  refrain  from  mentioning  its  location.  There  are 
many  such  cities  of  longlegs  in  the  South,  although  their 
number  is  becoming  less  each  year  on  account  of  the  on- 
slaughts of  the  plume  hunter. 

THOUGHT  QUESTIONS 

Have  you  ever  seen  a  crane,  heron,  or  other  long-legged  bird?  If  a 
bird's  legs  are  long  is  it  necessary  for  its  neck  to  be  long  also  ?  Why  ?  Did 
you  ever  see  a  bird  feed  its  young  as  the  herons  do?  How  do  hens  feed 
their  little  ones?  How  do  sparrows  feed  their  young?  Make  a  list  of  all 
the  water  birds  you  know. 


A  QUARTET  OF  WOODLAND  DRUMMERS 


HERE  is  a  cheery  little 
neighbor  of  mine  living' 
among   the   trees   of   a 
grove  whom  I  should  like  to 
have  all  my  friends  meet.    He 
is  a  little  downy  woodpecker. 
Black  and  white  spots  are  scat- 
tered  all   over   his   wings,    and 
there    is   just   a    stripe    of    red 
across  the  top  of  his  black  cap. 
I  am  sure  you  would  know  him 
by  his  small  size,  his  colors  and 
his  trustful  manner.     He  is  not 
at  all  suspicious  of  people  and 
when  hard  at  work  will  usually 
allow  anyone  to  come  quite  close  to 
him.    He  is  a  quiet,  modest  little 
creature  who  never  does  anyone 
harm,  and  so  far  as  known  has  but 
few  enemies. 
Downy  is  the  smallest  as  well  as  the  most  active  of  our 

[192] 


A    QUARTET    OF    WOODLAND    DRUMMERS  193 

woodpeckers,  and  always  appears  to  be  busy.  We  may 
often  see  him  climbing  up  the  huge  trunk  of  some  old  oak 
tree,  pausing  a  second  here  and  there  to  rap  on  the  bark 
with  his  bill  to  learn  if  all  is  solid  wood  within.  Again  he 
will  pause  as  the  peculiar  sound  given  back  from  his  tap 
indicates  that  an  insect  is  lurking  within.  Then  the  re- 
sounding blows  of  his  little  pickaxe  fall  thick  and  fast, 
sending  the  chips  in  every  direction.  In  vain  does  the 
plump  larva  feasting  on  the  sap  of  the  tree  retreat  into 
its  hole.  A  gleam  of  daylight  shoots  into  the  burrow,  and 
an  instant  later  the  spear-like  tongue  of  the  woodpecker 
has  impaled  its  victim  and  jerked  it  forth.  Then  on 
up  the  tree  Downy  goes,  perhaps  without  further  in- 
cident until  well  among  the  limbs,  when  suddenly  he 
flies  to  a  neighboring  tree,  dropping  as  he  does  so  to 
a  point  near  its  base,  and  begins  to  ascend  this  trunk 
as  he  did  the  one  before. 

He  is  the  natural  watchman  of  our  fruit  trees.  He 
hunts  out  the  moth's  eggs  laid  in  the  crack  of  the 
bark  and  eats  them,  thus  preventing  a  brood  of  cater- 
pillars from  hatching  and  eating  the  leaves  of  the 
tree.  He  finds  the  eggs  of  the  beetle  and  eats  them  also, 
before  they  can  hatch  out  into  the  wood-boring  larvaB, 
which  sometimes  girdle  and  kill  the  limbs. 

Thus  Downy  labors  on,  day  by  day,  through  the  year, 


194 


STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 


destroying  millions  of  harmful  insects,  which  if  unmo- 
lested would  do  a  vast  injury  to  the  groves  and  orchards. 
For  all  this  service  he  never  eats  any  of  the  fruit  of  the 
trees  he  guards,  but,  when  in  need  of  a  little  vegetable  diet, 


goes  to  the  berries  of  the  dogwood,  or  woodbine,  or  poke- 
berry.  Occasionally  he  eats  a  few  weed  seeds  just  for 
variety.  Downy  is  sometimes  called  '  '  sapsucker, ' '  and  is 
accused  of  pecking  holes  in  the  bark  of  trees  for  the  pur- 
pose of  getting  the  sap.  But  Downy  is  not  the  guilty 


A   QUAKTET    OF    WOODLAND   DRUMMERS  195 

party.  The  bird  which  does  this  is  another  kind  of  wood- 
pecker. The  small  holes  which  our  little  friend  makes  in 
trees  do  not  even  reach  the  inner  bark,  except  when  he  is 
bent  on  securing  some  harmful  intruder. 

Like  the  most  of  our  woodpeckers,  Downy  is  a  resident 
throughout  the  year  wherever  found,  and  seems  to  enjoy 
equally  all  seasons.  When  you  find  him  in  your  orchard 
on  a  bright,  cold  morning  in  January,  he  has  the  same 
busy,  contented  air  which  you  must  have  noticed  when 
first  making  his  acquaintance,  perhaps  on  some  warm 
spring  day.  He  appears  so  happy  and  buoyant  at  all  times 
that  one  wonders  if  he  does  not  have  hid  away  under  his 
little  white  waistcoat  a  perpetual  fountain  of  the  ecstasy 
of  springtime  and  youth. 

He  likes  cheerful  company,  especially  in  the  winter, 
when  most  of  the.  forest  voices  are  silent  and  the  cold  winds 
are  howling  around  the  trunks  of  the 
sleeping  forest  trees. 

He  then  hunts  up  his  friends,  the  little 
gray  tufted  titmouse  and  the  light 
hearted  chickadee.  Together  they  spend 
much  time  in  bands,  patrolling  the  wood- 
land, searching  out  from  their  hiding  places  the  eggs  of 
insects  stowed  away  under  the  bark  waiting  for  the  warm 


196  STOKIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

spring  sun  to  hatch  them.    A  dozen  or  more  birds  are  thus 
often  found  together. 

They  form  a  merry  company,  these 
little  forest  rangers,  and  never  lack  for 
music  as  they  march.  The  shrill  piping 
peto,  peto,  peto  of  the  titmouse  mingles 
with  the  tenor  drum  tap,  tap  of  Downy 's  bill  on  the  bark, 
while  ever  and  again  the  chickadee,  a  mere  bundle  of 
nerves  and  fluffy  feathers,  "merrily  sings  his  chick-a-dee- 
dee." 

Not  merely  for  company  do  these  birds  thus  associate, 
but  for  mutual  protection  as  well.  Twenty  pairs  of  sharp 
eyes  are  more  likely  to  see  an  enemy  approaching  than  is 
a  single  pair,  and  it  is  well  for  a  small  bird  to  keep  a  sharp 
lookout  at  this  season  of  the  year,  for  it  is  more  readily 
seen  by  a  hawk  in  a  leafless  winter  wood  than  it  is  in  a 
shady  summer  forest. 

Like  all  other  woodpeckers,  Downy 's  mate  lays  white 
eggs.  These  are  usually  four  or  five  in  number,  and  are 
placed  on  a  bed  of  fine  chips  at  the  bottom  of  a  hole,  which 
both  parents  have  helped  to  dig,  usually  in  the  under  side 
of  some  decayed  limb  of  a  tree.  Nature  is  not  prone  to 
use  her  coloring  matter  on  eggs  which,  like  the  woodpeck- 
ers', are  hid  away  in  dark  holes  in  trees.  When  the  little 
ones  are  hatched,  Downy  and  his  mate  are  kept  very  busy 


A   QUARTET    OF    WOODLAND   DRUMMERS  197 

for  a  long  time  bringing  them  worms  to  eat,  for  the  little 
woodpeckers  have  great  appetites  which  seem  never  to  be 
satisfied. 

There  are  thirty-six  varieties  of  woodpeckers  which 
occur  in  various  parts  of  North  America,  four  of  this  num- 
ber being  known  over  a  greater  portion  of  the  region. 
The  Downy  is  perhaps  the  best  known  of  all.  Another  bird 
which  is  sometimes  mistaken  for  Downy  comes  to  the 
grove.  Along  in  October  when  the  maple  leaves  begin  to 
turn  red  and  drop  down  as  if  to  hide  their  blushing  faces 
in  the  withering  grass;  when  the  blue  haze  hangs  along 
the  horizonr  and  all  the  plant  world  seems  going  to  sleep 
after  its  summer's  work,  we  awake  some  morning  and  find 
a  stranger  in  our  garden.  We  hear  his  plaintive  cry  fall- 
ing on  our  ears  from  off  the  trunk  of  some  tall  fruit  or 
shade  tree.  Let  us  hasten  out  of  doors  and  look  for  him. 

There  he  goes  up  the  side  of  a  tree  very  much  as  Downy 
travels.  We  can  tell  by  the  way  he  moves  that  he  is  a 
woodpecker  of  some  kind.  In  appearance  he  is  much  like 
Downy,  but  seems  to  be  a  little  larger  and  more  slender. 
There  is  more  red  on  his  head,  too,  and  he  wears  a  red 
patch  on  his  chin.  During  the  night  he  has  arrived  from 
his  summer  home  in  the  far  north,  and  he  has  come  to  stay 
with  us  awhile.  All  winter  long  we  may  hear  his  com- 
plaining cry  in  the  grove  about  the  house.  He  is  really  a 


198 


STOEIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 


northern  bird,  for  his  true  home  is  where  he  mates  and 
rears  his  young. 

His  name  is  "yellow-bellied  sapsucker."     This  is  the 


kind  of  bird  which  perhaps  girdled  the  shade  tree  in  your 
yard  last  spring  by  pecking  so  many  holes  in  it  to  drink 
the  sap.  He  is  the  true  sapsucker,  and  is  fond  of  the  juice 
of  many  kinds  of  trees.  The  sap  of  the  apple  tree  he  re- 
gards as  especially  pleasant,  and  often  turns  there  for  his 


A   QUARTET    OF    WOODLAND    DRUMMERS  199 

cider.  He  goes  to  the  sugar  maple  for  his  syrup,  to  the 
mountain  ash  for  his  wine,  and  in  the  North  indulges  much 
in  his  favorite  cup  of  hemlock. 

The  sapsucker  is  not  the  only  one  that  likes  the  sap  of 
trees.  In  the  country  where  he  makes  Ms  summer  home, 
insects  of  many  kinds  are  said  to  gather  around  the  little 
wells  he  makes  and  lean  over  to  draw  up  the  sweet  juice 
through  their  tube-like  mouth-parts,  somewhat  as  a  boy 
might  drink  through  a  straw  the  clear  water  from  a  wood- 
land spring.  Several  kinds  of  little  people  go  there  to 
feast;  there  are  flies  of  different  sizes  and  colors,  and 
there  are  gnats,  and  an  occasional  yellow  jacket.  Ants, 
too,  climb  up  the  trees  and  elbow  their  way  among  the 
others  for  their  share. 

While  all  this  is  going  on,  many  of  the  company  get 
their  feet  mired  in  the  sticky  juice  which  has  been  spilled 
about  the  edges  of  the  spring  and  are  there  held  fast. 
Pretty  soon  the  sapsucker  comes  back  for  his  dinner,  when 
lo!  he  finds  that  some  one  has  been  stealing  it  from  him, 
and  there  are  the  little  thieves  caught  sure  and  fast.  He 
does  not  appear  to  be  at  all  angry  at  this  but  hops  about 
and  cheerfully  snaps  up  and  eats  all  the  insects  he  can 
find,  and  turns  to  catch  others  buzzing  near.  Some  ob- 
servers think  that  the  sapsuckers  do  not  do  this  very  often, 
but  confine  their  diet  almost  entirely  to  sap.  It  would  be 


200  STORIES  OF   BIRD  LIFE 

interesting  for  some  one  living  in  the  country  where  the 
sapsucker  makes  his  summer  home,  to  watch  the  bird 
closely  and  learn  to  what  extent  he  really  catches  insects. 

Unlike  Downy  the  sapsucker  never  digs  into  dead  wood 
for  the  larvae  of  insects,  and  if  he  did  his  tongue  is  not 
long  enough  to  reach  into  their  holes  and  spear  them  out 
of  their  hiding  places;  besides,  the  end  of  it  is  more  like 
a  brush,  and  for  this  reason  is  better  adapted  to  gathering 
up  sap  than  to  spearing  insects. 

For  several  years  a  sapsucker  (possibly  not  the  same 
bird  always)  has  each  season  visited  a  small  balsam  grow- 
ing in  a  frequented  lawn  near  my  home.  In  the  autumn 
he  begins  his  attack  and  a  few  small  holes  are  dug  through 
the  bark  for  sap,  but  by  far  the  larger  amount  of  his  work 
is  done  in  the  spring.  This  year  when  the  sap  first  began 
to  rise  the  sapsucker  came  out  of  the  woods  and  com- 
menced operations  on  the  balsam.  He  is  a  wonderful  car- 
penter and  the  way  he  made  the  chips  fly  with  his  sharp 
bill  was  astonishing.  Hour  after  hour  he  toiled  on,  cut- 
ting scores  of  holes  through  the  bark  to  the  solid  wood  be- 
yond. In  a  few  days  hundreds  of  these  little  wells  had 
been  sunk  and  the  sap  rose  in  them  in  abundance. 

The  bird  would  cling  to  the  side  of  the  tree,  braced  by 
his  tail,  and  drink  the  sweet  juice  from  the  holes^  one  after 
another.  As  they  ran  dry,  day  by  day,  other  holes  were 


A   QUARTET    OF    WOODLAND    DRUMMERS 


201 


chiseled.  Usually  these  openings  were  made  in  rings  about 
the  tree  or  in  rows  up  and  down  its  side.  I  counted  forty- 
two  holes  in  one  vertical  line.  These  were  mostly  about 
the  size  of  a  lead  pencil,  but  a  few  were  an  inch  and  a 
quarter  long  by  three-fourths  of  an  inch  wide.  Some  of 
the  holes  .are  less  than  a  foot  from  the  ground  and  they 
occur  at  intervals  for  twenty  feet,  or  fully  two-thirds  the 
distance  to  the  top.  The  perforations  were  confined  chiefly 
to  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  and  in  only  one  case  was  a  limb 
assailed. 

During  the  month  of  March  new  holes  were  made  daily 
and  on  the  twenty-ninth  the 
bark  showed  one  thousand 
six  hundred  and  seventy-one 
unhealed  openings  which 
had  been  made  this  spring. 
Hundreds  of  old  scars  bore 
mute  testimony  to  the  work- 
ings of  the  sapsucker  in  pre- 
vious years.  The  accom- 
panying picture  is  that  of  a 
piece  of  bark  four  inches  in 
length  by  a  little  less  than 
luci.  4?  ^  in  width  which  was  cut  from  the  side  of  the 
tree  twelve  feet  from  the  ground.  It  gives  a  good  idea  of 


202  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

the  appearance  of  bark  which  has  been  subjected  to  the 
sapsucker 's  bill.  Undoubtedly  trees  sometimes  die  as  a 
result  of  the  serious  attacks  made  by  this  little  red-faced 
carpenter. 

When  April  drew  near  and  Nature,  awaking  from  her 
long  sleep,  began  to  whisper  joyously  to  the  buds  on  all  the 
trees  to  push  out  of  doors,  the  sapsucker  bethought  him- 
self of  his  northern  home.  He  was  accustomed  to  come 
each  morning  for  his  sap,  usually  about  half -past  seven 
o  'clock,  and  would  feed  for  half  an  hour  or  an  hour.  After 
breakfasting  on  the  morning  of  April  the  first,  he  flew  to 
a  large  white  oak  near  by  and  beat  a  loud  drum  call  several 
times  on  a  resounding  piece  of  bark.  Over  in  the  edge  of 
the  woods  there  was  another  roll  from  a  dead  limb,  an 
answering  signal.  It  came  from  another  male  bird  which 
sometimes  appeared  on  the  lawn.  The  meaning  of  this  was 
clear ;  the  spell  of  spring  and  nesting  time  was  strong  upon 
them ;  it  was  the  call  of  kind  to  kind,  and  I  felt  that  their 
time  for  departure  was  near.  For  four  mornings  longer 
the  sapsucker  came,  but  on  the  fifth  he  did  not  appear, 
although  I  came  early  to  watch  and  waited  long  in  the 
hope  of  seeing  him.  The  tugging  at  his  heart  had  become 
too  strong  to  resist,  his  love  was  calling  to  him  out  of  the 
north,  and  he  could  not  tarry  longer.  I  shall  watch  with 
gladness  for  his  return  in  the  autumn,  for  although  he  may 


A   QUARTET    OF    WOODLAND   DRUMMERS  203 

some  day  kill  the  pretty  balsam,  the  loss  of  one  tree  is  a 
small  price  to  pay  for  the  knowledge  and  pleasure  to  be 
gained  by  watching  him  from  day  to  day. 

One  April  day  while  passing  through  an  unused  field  I 
came  to  the  spot  where  a  large  tree  had  once  stood.  During 
a  storm  some  years  before,  it  had  been  broken  by  the  wind 
at  a  height  of  twelve  or  fifteen  feet  from  the  ground,  so 
now  only  a  tall  decayed  stump  was  left  standing.  Up  its 
side,  a  little  higher  than  one  could  reach  with  a  walking 
cane,  was  a  hole  about  the  size  of  a  large  apple.  On  the 
ground  beneath  were  many  little  pieces  of  wood  like  small 
chips. 

It  appeared  that  some  one  had  been  cutting  a  hole  in  the 
old  dead  stub.  A  low,  vigorous  pounding  was  going  on 
inside,  so  I  tapped  on  the  wood  with  my  knife  to  see  if  the 
workman  within  would  appear.  In  a  moment  a  long  bill 
was  thrust  out  of  the  hole,  followed  by  a  light  brown  chin 
and  a  pair  of  black  eyes,  which  looked  sharply  down  as  if 
to  ask  what  business  I  had  there.  Again  I  tapped  and 
out  flew  a  bird  a  little  larger  than  a  robin.  Its  breast  was 
spotted,  a  large  white  patch  was  plainly  seen  on  the  lower 
part  of  its  back,  and  there  was  much  yellow  about  the 
wings  and  tail.  It  was  a  flicker,  the  bird  which  many 
people  call  "yellow  hammer. "  This  tree  was  her  tower, 
and  there  high  in  that  upper  room,  which  she  and  her  mate 


204 


STOKIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 


were  chiseling  out  with  their  bills,  was  to  be  her  nest. 
Lord  and  Lady  Flicker  they  were,  who  would  soon  be  liv- 
ing here  in  their  tall  wood  castle,  safe  from  hawks  and 
weasels  and  cats.  What  a  cosy  place  it  would  be  for  the 


little  ones,  tucked  away  in  that  great  house  with  such  thick 
walls  all  around ! 

Next  day  I  came  and  hid  by  the  flickers'  tower  to  watch. 
Soon  with  strong  rapid  flight  the  male  came  racing  through 
the  air  and  landed  near  the  doorway  of  his  castle.  How 
strong  and  wild  he  looked!  Proudly  he  threw  up  his 


A    QUARTET    OF    WOODLAND    DRUMMERS  205 

slightly  curved  bill  and  sent  forth  a  call  such  as  only  a 
flicker  can  give.  His  manner  was  majestic,  as  though  con- 
scious of  the  fact  that  he  wore  a  coat  of  more  varied  colors 
than  that  o_  any  other  woodpecker  in  the  whole  country. 

There  was  a  long  black  spot  on  each  side  of  his  face, 
such  as  men  call  burnsides. 

Soon  the  lady  bird  came  and  perched  near  her  mate. 
Though  she  had  no  burnsides,  she  had  a  strip  of  red 
across  the  back  of  her  head,  as  though  it  was  her  hood 
which  had  almost  slipped  off  backwards.  How  oddly 
Mr.  Flicker  acted  when  she  arrived !  What  strange  antics 
he  at  once  began  to  perform !  He  bowed  low  to  his  mis- 
tress, and  spread  his  pretty  yellow  wings  like  a  cloak,  as 
he  swept  now  forward,  now  backward.  He  stepped  side- 
wise  and  danced  gracefully  back  again.  He  bobbed,  he 
bowed,  he  displayed  his  every  charm.  A  brave  wooer  wa3 
he  as  he  laughingly,  pleadingly,  coaxingly  called  to  her  in 
his  mellowest  and  most  enticing  voice.  He  said  many 
things  I  could  not  understand,  but  "Yu'ch,  yu'ch,"  was 
what  he  seemed  most  to  say.  The  flicker  is  a  devoted  and 
demonstrative  lover,  and  he  pays  homage  to  his  loved  one 
at  home  or  afield  wherever  he  meets  her. 

Another  day  I  came  to  watch  the  young  birds  get  their 
dinners.  Of  this  I  could  learn  but  little,  for  when  an  old 
one  woum  come  nome  nothing  could  be  seen  in  its  Dill,  ana 


206 


STOK1ES   OF   BIRD  LIFE 


yet  it  must  have  carried  food,  for  the  trips  to  and  from 
the  nest  continued  at  intervals  of  several  minutes  all  the 
day.  Those  who  have  had  opportunity  to  watch  the  birds 
closely  tell  us  that  the  old  flicker  feeds  the  young  with  the 
food  from  her  stomach.  She  puts  her  bill  into  the  mouth 
of  the  little  one  and  feeds  it  by  a  process  of  regurgitation. 
Whether  hungry  or  not  the  baby  birds  were  always  ready 
to  cry  out  at  the  least  disturbance  or  scratching  on  the 
wood  at  the  mouth  of  the  hole.  When  annoyed  they  would 
make  a  sharp  hissing  noise  quite  like  the  blowing  of  a 
hog-nosed  adder. 

I  wished  to  see  the  nest  in  which  the  little  flickers  were 
reared;  so,  late  in  the  summer  after  they 
had  grown  up  and  flown  away  over  the 
fields,  I  cut  the  old  stump  down  and, 
splitting  it  open,  soon  had  before  me  the 
inside  of  the  flickers'  nursery.  It  was 
somewhat  gourd-shaped,  the  entrance 
hole  being  at  the  end  of  the  handle  and 
the  largest  part  being  at  the  bottom 
twelve  inches  below  the  opening.  On  the 
floor  of  the  cavity  was  a  thick  carpet  of 
very  fine  chips  for  the  family  to  rest  on.  The  walls  were 
much  scratched  and  scarred  by  the  climbing  in  and  out  of 
many  claws. 


*ttn 


A    QUARTET    OF    WOODLAND    DRUMMERS  207 

The  flicker  is  more  of  a  ground  bird  than  any  other 
of  our  woodpeckers.  He  is  fond  of  digging  in  the  fields 
and  pastures  for  grubs  and  earthworms.  His  bill  is  not 
straight  and  chisel-shaped  at  the  end  like  that  of  other 
members  of  his  family,  but  it  is  slightly  curved  like  the 
bill  of  a  thrush  and  is  quite  pointed,  a  thing  which  aids 
him  much  in  digging.  He  drives  it  into  the  ground  much 
as  one  might  drive  a  pickaxe,  making  the  clods  fly  in  a 
lively  manner. 

Often  the  flicker  will  attack  ant-hills,  spading  the  nests 
out  with  his  powerful  bill,  and  eating  the  ants  and  their 
larvae  in  numbers.  Different  kinds  of  fruit  and  berries, 
such  as  cherries,  mulberries  and  wild  grapes,  add  variety 
to  his  bill  of  fare.  In  the  early  winter,  when  other  fruit 
has  become  scarce,  he  enjoys  a  few  persimmons  now  and 
then  for  his  dessert.  But  his  bread  of  life  is  a  diet  of  ants, 
and  he  has  been  known  to  eat  as  many  as  three  thousand 
at  a  single  meal. 

From  five  to  seven  white  eggs  are  usually  laid.  When 
all  but  one  of  these  are  taken  out  of  the  nest  flickers  have 
been  known  on  some  occasions  to  continue  laying  one  a 
day  for  a  long  time,  as  does  a  domestic  fowl.  A  flicker 
near  Greensboro,  North  Carolina,  laid  in  this  way  more 
than  thirty.  One  in  Massachusetts  once  laid  seventy-one 
eggs  in  seventy-three  days. 


208  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

I  know  a  gentleman  living  in  a  grove  about  whose  house 
the  birds  are  always  abundant.  I  will  tell  you  his  method 
of  keeping  them  near  him.  One  winter  there  was  a  deep 
snow  which  lay  for  a  long  time  upon  the  ground.  At  the 
same  time  the  weather  was  bitterly  cold.  The  birds  suf- 
fered much  for  lack  of  food  and  hundreds  were  frozen  to 
death.  One  day  a  flicker  came  into  his  house  through  a 
crack  above  a  side  window,  and  pecked  about  on  the  shelves 
and  chairs  hunting  for  something  to  eat.  When  the  man 
of  the  house  came  into  the  room  the  flicker,  in  an  effort  to 
escape,  flew  against  the  window  and  fell  fluttering  to  the 
casement.  The  gentleman  took  the  bird  in  his  hands  and, 
finding  it  to  be  very  poor,  knew  that  it  must  be  almost 
famished.  It  then  occurred  to  him  that  all  the  other  birds 
must  likewise  be  suffering  and  maybe  the  flicker  had  come 
to  let  him  know  about  it.  So  he  at  once  set  about  to  devise 
some  means  of  feeding  them. 

Taking  a  short  board  he  nailed  it  to  a  tree  in  his  yard 
in  such  a  way  as  to  make  a  shelf.  On  this  he  sprinkled 
cracker  crumbs  which  contained  some  seeds,  and  a  piece  of 
suet  without  salt.  Within  an  hour  a  chickadee  discovered 
the  dinner  on  the  board  and  at  once  helped  himself.  Soon 
a  pair  of  hungry  nuthatches  were  on  the  spot.  The  news 
spread  rapidly  and  day  by  day  the  good  man  had  the 
pleasure  of  watching  many  kinds  of  little  feathered  people 


A   QUARTET    OF    WOODLAND   DRUMMERS  209 

gather  to  the  feast.  Since  that  time  he  has  never  failed  to 
keep  food  in  his  yard  for  the  birds.  If  you  would  like  to 
observe  a  flicker  where  you  can  approach  close  enough  to 
see  his  red  head-stripe  and  black  burnsides,  come  with  me 
some  winter  day  when  the  snow  lies  deep,  and  we  will 
visit  the  birds '  banquet  table  spread  by  the  good  man  who 
lives  in  the  grove. 

Skirting  a  path  along  which  I  am  accustomed  to  pass 
each  morning  is  a  row  of  old,  scraggy  locust  trees.  These 
are  the  regular  haunts  of  numerous  birds  in  the  summer, 
and  even  in  winter  they  are  not  deserted,  for  the  bluebirds 
and  meadowlarks  frequently  perch  on  the  bare  branches, 
and  the  white-br6asted  nuthatches  wander  much  up  and 
down  the  trunks.  Another  bird  seen  here  nearly  every  day 
the  past  winter  was  a  flashing  red-headed  fellow  with  white 
breast  and  black  back.  A  large  patch  of  white  also  was 
on  each  wing.  He  would  cling  to  the  side  of  a  limb,  with 
two  toes  on  each  foot  pointed  forward  and  two  pointed 
backward,  and  brace  himself  with  his  tail  against  the 
bark  while  he  pecked  on  the  wood.  The  size  and  actions 
of  this  bird  of  course  clearly  indicated  that  he  was  a  wood- 
pecker, and  his  colors  revealed  his  name— the  red-headed 
woodpecker. 

Only  a  small  per  cent  of  the  woodpeckers  of  this  species 
spend  the  winter  months  in  North  Carolina,  for  possibly, 


210 


STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 


as  some  have  suggested,  the  supply  of  food  may  be  limited. 
Having  this  in  mind  I  began  to  suspect  that  our  fine  bird 
was  getting  his  daily  food  from  some  dead  limbs  of  the 

locust    trees 


in 


which  he  daily 
busied  himself .  He 
dug  long  ditches 
into  the  rotten 
wood  and  as  a  re- 
sult quantities  of 
chips  lay  on  the 
ground  beneath,  as 
evidence  of  his  in- 
dustry. It  must 
be  insect  life  of 
some  kind  that  he 
is  looking  for,  I 
often  thought,  and 
yet  on  more  than 
one  occasion  I  de- 
tected him  in  the 
act  of  eating  acorns.  One  morning  after  a  strong  wind 
had  been  blowing  I  found  that  a  large  dead  limb  had 
fallen  across  my  path.  It  was  one  of  those  on  which  the 
woodpecker  had  spent  much  time.  So  much  decayed  was 
it  that  in  falling  it  had  broken  into  several  pieces,  thus  dis- 


A   QUAKTET    OF    WOODLAND   DRUMMERS  211 

closing  numerous  chambers  and  galleries  running  through 
the  wood.  In  these  here  and  there  were  crowded  hosts  of 
black  ants  taking  their  long  winter  sleep.  Many  of  the 
galleries  had  been  opened  from  the  outside  by  the  wood- 
pecker and  robbed  of  their  occupants.  Here  then  was  an 
explanation  of  his  actions.  In  an  old  rent  on  one  side  from 
which  a  small  limb  had  been  broken  four  acorns  were 
found-,  two  of  which  were  perfectly  sound.  They  could  not 
have  lodged  there  in  falling  from  an  oak.  They  must  have 
been  carried  there,  possibly  by  some  little  fourfooted 
animal,  but  more  probably  by  the  redhead  himself,  as  in 
other  places  he  has  been  known  fo  do  this.  Perhaps  he 
had  acorns  also  stowed  away  in  other  chinks  of  the  old 
locust  trees,  but  of  this  I  did  not  learn. 

The  redhead  is  such  a  handsome  fellow  that  it  is  hard  to 
think  of  his  ever  doing  anything  unpleasant;  and  yet  at 
times  he  is  a  very  bad  bird,  probably  the  worst  one  of  the 
whole  family.  It  is  told  of  him  that  he  will  sometimes  go 
to  other  birds '  nests  and  eat  their  eggs.  He  is  accused  not 
only  of  being  a  rogue,  bur  a  murderer  as  well.  Downy 's 
friends,  the  titmouse  and  the  chickadee,  know  him  well, 
and  it  is  whispered  that  they  have  on  more  than  one  occa- 
sion caught  him  plundering  their  nests.  Thore  is  small 
wonder  then  that  Downy  dislikes  the  redhead  and  often 
disputes  with  him  for  the  possession  of  some  favorite  limb 
or  post. 


212  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

In  summer  the  bird  lives  largely  on  fruit.  He  will  light 
in  your  cherry  tree,  seize  the  ripest  fruit  within  reach,  and 
in  another  moment  be  off  for  some  frequented  limb  at  the 
edge  of  the  grove,  where  he  likes  to  carry  his  food  before 
eating.  Here  on  his  high  dining  table,  he  holds  the  cherry 
down  with  his  foot  and  eats  it  at  his  convenience.  Then 
he  wipes  his  bill  on  the  limb,  using  the  bark  for  a  napkin, 
and  soon  comes  back  for  another  piece  of  fruit.  Besides 
plums  and  cherries  he  likes  to  eat  grapes  and  berries. 
Many  kinds  of  insects  also  go  to  supply  his  mouth  with 
good  things. 


In  Florida  I  have  known  the  redhead  to  peck  holes  in 
oranges  and  drink  the  sweet  juice.  An  orange  grower 
once  showed  me  a  device  he  employed  for  killing  them  as 
well  as  the  red-bellied  woodpeckers  which  in  like  manner 
pecked  his  fruit.  He  had  placed  a  long  slender  pole  up 
through  the  tree  in  such  a  way  that  one  end  rested  on  the 
ground  and  the  other  protruded  above  the  boughs.  Often 
a  bird  coming  for  a  draught  of  juice  would  first  alight  on 
this  natural  perch.  A  man  hidden  beneath  would  then 
strike  the  pole  a  sharp  blow  with  an  axe  or  heavy  club. 


A  QUARTET  OF  WOODLAND  DRUMMERS  213 

The  violent  jar  transmitted  to  the  upper  end  was  usually 
severe  enough  to  kill  the  bird. 

The  redhead  visits  the  corn  fields  during  rqasting-ear 
time.  He  will  tear  the  husk  open  at  the  end  until  he  can 
see  the  milky  white  grains  so  snugly  tucked  away  in  rows. 
After  eating  his  fill  he  leaves  and  does  not  return  to  the 
same  ear,  but  when  hunger  again  calls  him  to  the  field  he 
attacks  a  new  one.  The  corn  raisers  of  course  object  to 
this  pilfering  in  their  fields  and  some  of  them  make  it  a 
point  to  shoot  at  the  thief  whenever  they  catch  him  in  the 
act. 

In  flying,  the  redhead  does  not  travel  in  a  straight,  even 
line  as  many  birds  do,  nor  does  he  soar  as  many  others, 
but  goes  swinging  up  and  down  through  the  air  in  long 
billowy  sweeps.  When  you  see  one  start  across  a  wide  field 
it  is  worth  the  while  to  stop  and  watch  him ;  the  sight  will 
well  repay  you. 

Like  the  flicker,  this  woodpecker  digs  a  cavity  for  his 
nest  in  a  dead  tree.  Five  eggs  are  generally  found  in  a 
nest.  If  the  bird  is  robbed  it  will  not  keep  on  laying  an 
egg  each  day,  but  will  in  the  course  of  two  or  three  weeks 
deposit  another  set  of  four  or  five.  If  these  are  taken  the 
bird  will  often  try  a  third  time  to  rear  a  brood.  I  once 
knew  a  pair  of  redheads  which  had  their  nest  rifled  four 
times,  nineteen  eggs  in  all  being  taken.  Then  they  left 


214  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

their  nest  in  the  stump  and  dug  out  another  in  a  tall  dead 
tree  where  the  boy  who  had  robbed  them  before  could  not 
molest  them  further.  Late  that  summer  I  saw  the  young 
ones  flying  about  the  grove  with  their  parents.  In  appear- 
ance they  were  much  the  same  as  the  old  ones,  but  the  head 
and  neck  of  each  was  a  grayish  brown.  Not  until  many 
months  had  passed  did  they  get  their  red  feathers. 

The  bird  has  many  call  notes,  al- 
though it  has  no  song.  One  which 
it  often  uses  in  the  summer  resem- 
bles closely  the  note  of  the  common 
tree  frog,  and  it  is  said  that  the  bird 
and  frog  sometimes  answer  one  an- 
other;, each  possibly  thinking  it  is  calling  to  one  of  its  own 
kind.  The  strongest  note  of  the  redhead  is  given  when  he 
sounds  his  love-call  from  the  dead  resounding  limb  of 
some  tall  tree.  It  is  produced  by  striking  the  hard  wood 
very  rapidly  with  his  bill.  As  he  hears  his  loud  stirring 
signal  go  re-echoing  through  the  woodland,  he  settles  back 
on  his  perch  until,  faintly  borne  to  his  listening  ears,  comes 
the  well  known  answering  tap  of  a  beloved  bill,  and  he 
starts  up  to  sound  a  reply. 

To  me  this  is  one  of  the  most  stirring  notes  in  nature. 
Among  the  earliest  scenes  which  I  can  recall  is  the  sight 
of  one  of  these  birds  sounding  his  drum  from  the  top  of  a 


A  QUARTET  OF  WOODLAND  DRUMMERS  215 

tall  dead  pine  near  my  home,  and  as  the  years  go  by,  I 
turn  each  spring  with  ever  renewed  interest  and  pleasure 
to  hearken  when  I  catch  the  drumming  roll  of  the  red- 
head's love-call. 

THOUGHT  QUESTIONS 

How  many  kinds  of  woodpeckers  do  you  know?  Do  they  all  have  red  on 
their  heads?  Which  species  has  the  most  red  on  its  head?  Are  downy 
woodpeckers  ever  seen  among  the  trees  in  town?  Will  the  downy  harm  the 
fruit  or  vegetables?  Will  it  do  the  farmer  any  good?  Should  it  be  killed? 
Does  the  downy  leave  us  when  the  winter  comes?  Tie  some  suet  to  the 
limb  of  a  tree  in  your  yard  next  winter,  and  watch  for  a  downy  to  come  and 
eat  it.  By  how  many  names  have  you  heard  the  flicker  called?  How  do 
woodpeckers  fly,  by  swoops  or  in  a  straight  line? 


WINTER  LIFE  ON  A  COLLEGE  CAMPUS 


NE  autumn  day  three  very  odd  look- 
ing fellows  strolled  into  the  college 
campus  near  which  I  lived.  They  were  dressed  just  alike. 
Each  wore  a  long  tailed  gray  coat,  a  white  waistcoast,  a  tall 
white  collar  and  a  black  necktie.  For  trousers  they  had 
white  running  pantaloons.  They  were  bare  from  a  little 
above  their  knees  down.  Although  strangers  there,  they 
avoided  the  walks  and  driveways  and  spent  the  afternoon 
in  running  foot  races  on  the  low  open  plot  of  ground  at  the 
eastern  side  of  the  campus.  A  carriage  came  along,  going 
to  the  ball  park.  The  dog  which  trotted  behind  ran  out 
and  barked,  whereat  the  three  frightened  gray-coats 
tumbled  over  one  another  as  they  rushed  off,  each  loudly 
shouting  his  name  as  he  went.  The  man  in  the  carriage 
said,  "Killdeers,  to  be  sure ;  I  should  like  to  have  a  shot  at 
them." 

[216] 


WINTER  LIFE  ON  A  COLLEGE  CAMPUS 


217 


Late  that  night,  when  the  weary  athletes  had  forgotten 
their  bruises  and  were  at  rest,  three  pairs  of  bare  feet  came 
over  the  fence  of  the  athletic  field  and  alighted  on  the 
ploughed  and  trampled  sands.  Again  the  gray-coats 
chased  each  other,  looking  for  benighted  insects  as  they 
ran  and  shouted  in  their  glee.  Out  in  the  starlight  I  heard 
them  calling  to  one  another,  "killdee,  killdee!"  Three 


little  wanderers  had  stopped  to  enjoy  our  hospitalities. 
What  tales  would  they  have  to  tell  of  us  when  they  chose  to 
leave?  Three  close  friends  they  were,  banded  for  the 
winter  months  to  struggle  against  starvation,  and  snow, 
and  ice ;  against  hawks,  and  dogs,  and  guns. 

The  last  week  of  December  was  warm  and  bright.    The 


218  STOKIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

days  were  such  as  birds  much  enjoy  and  they  came  to  the 
campus  in  numbers.  In  all,  I  counted  twenty-one  species. 
A  flock  of  forty-two  meadow  larks  patrolled  the  campus 
from  gate  to  gate,  through  grove  and  open,  searching  for 
food  in  the  grass  and  among  the  fallen  leaves.  A  downy 
woodpecker  which  lives  in  the  trees  near  the  south  build- 
ing was  to  be  seen  each  day.  Early  in  the  month  he  had 
dug  out  with  his  bill  a  cavity  for  his  winter  bedroom  in 
the  dead  limb  of  a  tree  standing  near  the  library.  So 
nice  and  cosy  a  retreat  was  it  from  the  wind  that  early 
in  the  evening  he  would  often  leave  his  friends,  the  chick- 
adee and  titmouse,  with  whom  he  had  romped  all  day,  and 
hurrying  off  soon  tumble  into  bed  to  dream  away  the  long 
winter  night. 

Downy  had  a  relative,  the  little  Yankee  sapsucker,  which 
came  from  the  far  North  to  spend  the  winter  months  on  the 
campus.  He  did  not  care  for  such  noisy  companions  as  the 
downy 's  friends,  so  he  kept  apart  by  himself,  and  at  inter- 
vals during  the  day  would  announce  his  whereabouts  by 
calling  out  in  a  plaintive  voice. 

These  two  birds  have  a  relative  in  common  which  came 
to  the  holiday  campus.  This  was  their  big,  clumsy  country 
cousin,  the  yellow-hammer,  or  flicker.  He  hardly  knew  how 
to  behave  himself  among  those  large  buildings,  and  twice 
during  the  winter  was  almost  caught  while  prowling 


WINTER  LIFE  ON  A  COLLEGE  CAMPUS  219 

around  inside  one  of  them.  He  does  not  hesitate  to  go  in  at 
a  window  if  he  finds  one  open. 

One  day  just  before  the  close  of  the  year  I  heard  a  great 
outcry  among  the  branches  of  a  large  Spanish  oak  near  by. 
I  hastened  to  the  window  and  found  that  the  flicker  was  in 
more  trouble.  A  company  of  blue  jays  were  feeding  in  the 
grove.  Many  were  searching  for  acorns  in  the  leaves  on 
the  ground,  which  when  found  would  be  carried  promptly 
up  to  a  limb,  and  pounded  open.  While  one  was  thus  en- 
gaged the  flicker's  inquisitiveness  led  him  to  venture  too 
near,  whereupon  the  jay  remonstrated  loudly,  screaming 
and  flaunting  her  blue  and  white  feathers  about  in  a  most 
excited  manner. 

The  flicker  was  evidently  quite  abashed,  and  retreated 
around  the  limb,  chattering  something  which  I  thought 
might  be  to  the  effect  that  she  need  not  make  so  much  fuss 
about  nothing.  There  were  two  or  three  other  flickers  in 
the  grove  and  they  seemed  to  enjoy  the  discomfort  of  their 
friend  immensely.  A  moment  later  one  of  them  alighted 
on  the  limb  by  his  side  and,  bobbing  his  head  in  a  most  odd 
and  quaint  manner,  offered  by  way  of  encouragement  his 
characteristic  remark  of  "walk-up,  walk-up." 

Just  then  a  sparrow  hawk  came  around  the  corner  of  the 
building  and  perched  on  a  limb.  It  was  Xantippe,  the  quar- 
relsome little  lady  bird  we  had  watched  about  the  campiis 


220  STORIES  OF  BIRD  LIFE 

so  often  the  winter  before,  and  we  had  wondered  if  she  had 
a  mate  somewhere.  Poor  Xantippe  had  seen  much  trouble 
the  past  year.  In  the  spring  she  left  the  campus  and  went 
back  into  the  fields  to  meet  her  mate,  old  Socrates,  perhaps. 
A  little  later  some  boys  found  their  nest  and  destroyed  it. 
It  was  in  the  natural  cavity  of  a  dead  tree  twenty  feet  from 
the  ground.  Three  eggs  1  believe  they  said  it  contained, 
three  chocolate  spotted  eggs. 

The  pair  must  have  found  another  nesting  site,  however, 
for  in  the  autumn  when  Xantippe  again  appeared  on  the 
campus  she  brought  with  her  not  only  Socrates  but  also 
a  pair  of  young  birds.  The  college  atmosphere  must  have 
proved  too  stimulating  for  the  young  ones,  for  they  soon 
left,  probably  returning  to  the  country. 

Xantippe 's  favorite  perch,  as  last  winter,  was  on  one  of 
the  goal  posts  in  the  athletic  park,  while  Socrates  took  up 
his  headquarters  on  the  topmost  limb  of  a  locust  tree  just 
outside  the  park  fence.  Here  they  would  sit  for  hours  at 
a  time,  flying  down  now8  and  then  to  capture  some  article  of 
food,  or  else  to  chase  away  the  meadow  larks  when  they 
came  near.  Sometimes  both  would  come  and  perch  near 
the  laboratory,  high  on  the  fourth  floor,  and  nod  to  each 
other  and  peep  in  through  the  windows.  Then  the  boys 
would  look  up  from  their  microscopes  and  call  to  each 
other  that  the  little  hawks  had  come  to  look  on  again. 


WINTER  LIFE  ON  A  COLLEGE  CAMPtTS  221 

One  day  just  before  Christmas  a  boy  shot  Socrates.  For 
days  his  body  lay  in  the  rain  and  wind.  At  length  one  of 
the  professors  saw  it  and  picked  it  up  saying, i  i  poor  bird. ' ' 
He  laid  it  on  a  pile  of  coal  with  its  face  upturned  to  the 
cold  gray  sky.  Then  a  friend  buried  the  dead  bird ;  buried 
him  beneath  the  locust  tree  on  which  he  had  loved  to  sit. 

So  Xantippe  was  left  alone.  Perhaps  she  was  feeling 
sad  this  day  while  the  jays  were  so  noisy  and  the  flickers 
so  full  of  life.  Near  by,  the  flock  of  meadow  larks  was 
feeding.  Out  on  the  sunny  side  of  a  big  hickory  the  sap- 
sucker  clung  and  drowsed.  A  little  farther  away  Downy 
and  his  companions  were  making  their  usual  amount  of 
noise.  From  under  the  eaves  of  the  new  east  building 
came  the  sounds  of  cooing  pigeons.  Out  in  the  open  ground 
the  killdeers  were  calling. 

Suddenly  in  the  midst  of  this  joy  and  laughter,  feeding 
and  calling,  some  boys  came  with  their  guns.  Thick  and 
fast  were  the  discharges,  loud  and  terrible  was  the  roar. 
With  loud  shouts  the  jays  fled  screaming  to  the  woods. 
The  flickers  went  racing  off  in  long  galloping  sweeps,  all 
save  one  which,  with  broken  wing,  lay  beating  the  ground. 
The  sapsucker  was  shot  from  his  perch  on  the  hickory. 
Two  of  the  meadow  larks  failed  to  escape.  Of  the  unsus- 
pecting pigeons  nine  gave  up  their  lives.  They  fell  here 
and  there.  Their  feathers  were  scattered  on  the  walks, 


222  STOKIES  OF  BIKD  LIFE 

their  dark  blood  stained  the  stone  steps  of  the  north  en- 
trance. It  was  a  wild  morning  for  the  birds,  their  peace 
and  joy  were  at  an  end,— the  snake  had  entered  the  garden. 
The  killdeers  fled  for  parts  unknown,  bearing  with  them 
their  tale  of  horror  and  woe. 

Earlier  in  the  day  the  hunters  had  killed  a  rabbit  and 
some  partridges.  That  night  there  was  a  feast.  All  the 
game  was  put  together,  rabbit,  pigeon,  and  sapsucker; 
partridge,  flicker,  and  lark,  and  was 

"In  the  cauldron  boiled  and  baked." 

The  next  day  scarcely  a  bird  was  to  be  seen  on  the  campus. 
The  jays  kept  far  back  in  the  large  timber.  Once  a  flicker 
came  to  the  edge  of  the  woods  and  looked  across  to  the 
campus  and  sounded  his  drum  call  on  a  dead  limb.  But 
no  answering  note  came  back  from  the  silent  campus,  save, 
faintly  borne  to  his  ears,  the  laughter  of  the  hunters  start- 
ing out  again,  at  which  he  turned  and  fled  back  to  the  cover 
of  the  forest. 

But  Xantippe  did  not  leave.  Where  else  should  she  go? 
Just  before  night  she  flew  up  to  the  new  east  building, 
for  her  roosting  place  was  under  the  eaves.  Surely  no 
hunter  would  think  of  eating  her ;  and  for  what  other  pur- 
pose would  one  wish  to  shoot  her?  Suddenly  there  was  a 
roar  beneath.  Pains  shot  like  steel  blades  through  her 


WINTER  LIFE  ON  A   COLLEGE   CAMPUS  223 

body.  Blindly,  wildly  she  fled,  over  the  spot  where  the 
pigeons  had  fallen,  around  the  corner  of  the  laboratory, 
out  by  the  locust  tree  beneath  which  old  Socrates  slept,  her 
head  reeling  with  pain,  the  hot  blood  choking  her  throat. 
On,  on  she  goes  across  the  open  grounds  towards  the 
woods,  that  she  may  not  fall  until  reaching  cover,  instinc- 
tively avoiding  he'r  enemies  even  in  death.  Her  wings  no 
longer  beat  the  air,  they  are  now  set  and  rigid.  Death 
clutches  at  her  heart  and  throws  his  veil  before  her  eyes. 
On,  on  she  speeds,  sinking  lower  and  lower.  She  passes 
the  campus  wall,  she  nears  the  line  of  woods,  and  now  low 
in  the  gathering  gloom  of  the  evening  forest  she  sinks  faint- 
ing, gasping,  dying,— and  the  last  act  of  the  holiday  cam- 
pus tragedy  is  at  an  end. 

THOUGHT  QUESTIONS 

How  many  kinds  of  birds  did  you  ever  find  in  the  woods  or  fields  on  a 
winter  day?  Can  you  name  any  which  appear  only  in  winter?  Do  kill- 
deers  live  in  your  part  of  the  country?  Do  you  know  the  meadow  lark? 
What  color  is  its  breast?  What  do  jays  eat  besides  acorns?  Do  any  other 
birds  eat  acorns?  How  late  in  the  fall  of  the  year  will  tame  pigeons  con- 
tinue to  feed 'their  young?  Do  you  suppose  a  bird  really  cares  when  its 
companions  are  killed? 


APPENDIX  I 

The  questions  given  at  the  end  of  each  story  are  designed  to  draw  out 
ihe  pupil's  power  of  observation.  The  teacher  will  readily  supplement 
these  with  other  questions  that  will  suggest  themselves. 

The  detailed  descriptions  which  follow,  together  with  the  range  of  the 
chief  birds,  will  assist  pupils  and  teachers  in  a  more  technical  study  ot 
these  and  other  birds. 

In  making  these  descriptions  the  following  abbreviations  are  used: 
L.  represents  length;  W.,  wing;  T.,  tail;  M.,  male;  Fe.,  female. 

The  length  of  a  bird  is  determined  by  placing  the  specimen  upon  its 
back  on  a  smooth  surface  and  measuring  from  the  tip  of  the  bill  to  the 
end  of  the  tail.  The  length  of  the  wing  is  the  distance  from  the  joint 
nearest  the  end  to  the  point  of  the  longest  wing  feather.  The  measure- 
ments are  given  in  inches  and  hundredths. 

THE  ARREDONDO  SPARROW  HAWK 

AMERICAN  SPARROW  HAWK  (Falco  sparverius) . — M. — Back  and  tail  rufous, 
the  former  barred  with  black,  the  latter  with  a  broad  black  band  near  the 
end.  Tip  of  tail  white;  head  slaty  blue  with  a  crown  patch  rufous;  back 
rufous  with  a  few  black  spots  on  lower  part;  wing  coverts  slaty  blue;  pri- 
maries black,  barred  with  white;  ear  coverts  white  with  a  black  patch 
before  and  behind;  under  parts  vary  from  white  to  cream-buff;  belly  and 
sides  spotted  with  black.  Fe. — Wing  coverts  rufous,  under  parts  streaked 
with  buff.  L.,  10.10;  W.,  7.00;  T.,  4.75.  Range. — North  Amerfca,  from 
Central  Canada  to  South  America,  west  to  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

OUR  CHIMNEY  DWELLERS 

CHIMNEY  SWIFT  (Chcetura  pelagica) . — Sooty  brown,  sometimes  with 
a  faint  greenish  tinge  above,  lighter  beneath.  The  shafts  of  the  tail 
feathers  extend  beyond  the  vanes  and  end  in  sharp,  stiff  points.  L.,  5.25; 

[225] 


226  APPENDIX 

W.,  5.00;  T.,  1.90.     Range. — Eastern  North  America,  nortn  to  Labrador 
and  west  to  the  Plains.    Winters  south  of  the  United  States. 

THE  CHILDHOOD  OF  BIB-NECK 

WILSON'S  PLOVER  (JEglalitis  Wilsonia). — M. — A  black  band  across 
the  breast;  lores  and  front  of  crown  also  black;  forehead  and  under  parts 
white;  back,  cheeks  and  crown  brownish  gray;  outer  tail  feathers  white. 
Fe. — Has  brownish  gray  where  the  male  has  black.  L.,  7.50:  W.,  4.50; 
T.,  1.15.  Range. — Eastern  coast  of  America  from  New  York  to  Brazil; 
western  coast  from  lower  California  to  Peru. 

ROBIN  REDBREAST 

AMERICAN  ROBIN  (Merula  migratoria). — Above  dark  gray  except  top 
and  sides  of  head,  which  are  black;  a  white  spot  over  the  eye;  tail  black; 
outer  feathers  white  on  ends;  throat  is  white,  spotted  with  black.  The 
breast  and  belly  are  rufous.  Fe.  is  lighter  than  male.  L.,  10.00; 
W.,  5.00;  T.,  3.75.  Range. — Eastern  North  America  from  Mexico  to 
Alaska. 

AN  OLD  BARRED  OWL 

BARRED  OWL  (Syrnium  nebulosum). — Grayish  brown  above,  cacli 
feather  with  a  few  white  bars;  the  disk  about  the  eyes  is  gray,  mottled 
with  dark  brown;  under  parts  white,  tinged  with  buff;  breast  barred; 
sides  and  belly  streaked  with  buff.  Legs  and  toes  feathered.  L.,  20.00; 
W.,  13.00;  T.,  9.50.  Range. — Eastern  United  States,  north  to  Quebec, 
west  to  Kansas. 

THE  BIRDS  OF  COBB'S  ISLAND,  VIRGINIA 

LAUGHING  GULL  (Larus  atricilla). — Head  and  throat  dark  slate-color; 
primaries  black,  the  inner  ones  having  white  tips;  upper  parts  dark  pearl 
gray;  under  parts  white.  In  winter  the  head  and  throat  are  white. 
L.,  16.50;  W.,  12.25;  T.,  5.00.  Range. — Atlantic  coast,  from  Maine  south- 
ward. In  winter,  south  through  West  Indies. 

WILSON'S  TERN;  COMMON  TERN  (Sterna  Tiirundo). — Upper  parts  pearl 
gray;  top  of  head  black;  under  parts  pale  gray  except  throat,  which  is 


APPENDIX  227 

white.     The  bill  is  red  except  outer  third,  which  is  black.     The  feet  are 
orange  red.     L.,  15.00;  W.,  10.25;  T.,  5.50. 

A  PAIR  OF  EAGLES 

BALD  EAGLE;  WHITE-HEADED  EAGLE  (Halicctus  leucocephalus) . — Head, 
neck  and  tail  white,  rest  of  the  feathers  dark  brown.  The  bill  is 
yellow  and  the  leg  is  not  feathered  to  the  toes.  The  immature  bird  has 
more  or  less  white  mingled  with  its  plumage,  but  its  head,  neck  and  tail 
are  not  white  until  the  third  year.  L.,  33.00;  W.,  22.00;  T.,  12.50.  Extent 
of  wings  seven  feet.  Fe. — Larger  than  male.  Range. — North  America 
from  Alaska  to  Mexico. 

BIRD  KEY 

MAN-OF-WAR  BIRD  (Fregata  aquila) . — Black  and  very  glossy  above. 
The  Fe.  is  less  black  and  has  a  white  belly  and  breast.  The  bill  is  six 
inches  long  and  is  hooked  at  the  point.  L.,  3.50  feet;  W.,  two  feet;  T., 
1.50  feet.  Range. — Tropical  and  sub-tropical  coasts  of  America,  common 
northward  to  Florida  and  Texas,  casually  to  Nova  Scotia. 

BROWN  PELICAN  (Pelecanus  fuscus). — Back  of  head  and  neck  brown; 
top  of  head  and  spot  on  breast  yellow;  sides  and  back,  scapulars,  wing 
coverts,  secondaries  and  tail  are  silvery  gray.  The  primaries  are  black; 
under  parts  blackish  brown  streaked  with  white.  L.,  50.00;  W.,  20.00; 
B.,  11.00.  Range. — Tropical  and  sub-tropical  coast  of  eastern  America, 
occurring  as  far  north  as  North  Carolina. 

THE  MOCKING  BIRD 

MOCKING  BIRD  (Mimus  polyglottos) . — Upper  parts  ashy;  wings  and 
tail  blackish  brown;  inner  half  of  primaries  white;  three  outermost  pairs 
of  tail  feathers  with  more  or  less  white.  Under  parts  white.  L.,  10.50; 
W.,  4.50;  T.,  5.00.  Range.— Southern  United  States;  rare  north  of  Mary- 
land and  Kentucky. 

THE  VULTURES 

TURKEY  VULTURE  (Cathartes  aura). — Black  with  some  grayish  brown; 
head  and  upper  neck  bare,  t5ie  skin  of  which  is  red.  L.,  30.00;  W.,  22.00; 


228  APPENDIX 

T.,  11.00.     Range. — From  British  Columbia  southward  to  Patagonia;   rare 
in  New  England. 

BLACK  VULTURE  (Catharista  atrata).— Black;  skin  of  head  black.  L., 
24.00;  W.,  17.00;  T.,  8.00.  Range.— From  lower  Ohio  Valley  to  southern 
South  America. 

WOOD  DUCK  LIFE 

WOOD  DUCK;  SUMMER  DUCK  (Aix  sponsa). — M. — Throat,  a  line 
over  the  eye,  a  broad  strip  up  the  side  of  the  head  and  part  of  the  long 
crest  feathers  white.  Cheeks  and  crown  green  with  reflections  of  purple; 
chestnut  on  breast  spotted  with  white,  and*  chestnut  at  base  of  tail.  Belly 
white;  sides  buff,  barred  with  black  and  white;  brownish  green  back; 
scapulars  darker;  primaries  tipped  with  greenish  blue.  Fe. — Without 
the  crest;  other  markings  less  brilliant.  L.,  18.50;  W.,  9.00.  Range. — 
Temperate  North  America. 

THE  SNOWBIRD 

SLATE-COLORED  JUNCO;  SNOWBIRD  (Junco  hyemalis). — M. — Upper 
parts,  throat  and  breast  slate-color;  belly  white,  and  sides  grayish;  two 
outer  tail  feathers  white,  as  is  also  a  part  of  the  third.  Bill  flesh  color. 
L.,  6.25;  W.,  3.00;  T.,  2.75.  Range.— North  America,  mainly  east  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains;  breeds  from  the  Catskills  and  the  mountains  of  New 
England  northward.  In  winter  it  occurs  south  to  the  Gulf  States. 

CAROLINA  SNOWBIRD  (J.h.Carolinensis). — Closely  resembling  preceding 
species,  but  is  a  little  larger,  and  the  dark  parts  are  without  the  brownish 
tinge  usually  noticeable  in  that  species.  Range. — Southern  Alleghanies. 

A  BOBWHITE  FAMILY 

BOBWHITE  (Colinus  Virginianus) .— Chestnut  above,  with  some  mark- 
ings of  buff  and  black ;  rump  grayish  brown,  mottled  and  streaked  with 
black;  tail  ash.  Front  of  crown,  a  strip  beneath  the  eye,  and  a  band  on 
breast  black;  throat  white;  sides  chestnut,  with  white  and  black;  belly 
white,  barred  with  black.  Fe. — Smaller,  and  white  of  head  replaced  by 
buff.  L.,  10.00;  W.,  4.50;  T.,  2.50.  Range. — Eastern  United  States,  from 
Canada  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico;  west  to  the  Rocky  Mountains. 


APPENDIX  229 

LEVY,  THE  STORY  OF  AN  EGRET 

AMERICAN  EGRET  (Ardea  egretta). — Pure  white,  with  about  fifty 
straight  plumes  growing  between  the  scapulars  in  the  breeding  season. 
The  legs  and  feet  are  black.  L.,  41.00;  W.,  15.00.  Range. — Temperate 
America,  from  New  Jersey  to  Patagonia. 

THE  QUEST  FOR  THE  CORMORANT'S  NEST 

FLORIDA  CORMORANT  (Phalacrocorax  dilophus  Floridanu-s] . — Upper 
parts  glossy  black;  under  parts  lighter.  L.,  30.00;  W.,  12.00;  T.,  5.50. 
Varies  much  in  size.  Range. — Along  the  coast  from  North  Carolina  to 
Texas,  and  up  the  Mississippi  river  to  Illinois. 

CUCKOO,  THE  RAIN  PROPHET 

YELLOW-BILLED  CUCKOO  (Coccyzus  Americanus). — Lower  mandible 
yellow  except  at  tip,  where  it  is  black;  upper  one  black.  Upper  parls 
olive  gray;  wing  feathers  rufous.  Outer  tail  feathers  black,  tipped  with 
white;  outer  edge  of  outer  feathers  white.  Breast  and  belly  white. 
L.,  12.15;  W.,  5.75;  T.,  6.00.  Range. — Eastern  North  America;  north  to 
New  Brunswick;  west  to  the  Plains,  and  south  in  winter  to  the  West 
Indies  and  Costa  Rica. 

RUFFLE-BREAST,  THE  SHRIKE 

LOGGERHEAD  SHRIKE  ( Lanius  Ludovicianus ) . — Gray  above ;  secondaries 
tipped  with  white;  tail  and  wings  black;  tail  feathers  with  black  tips; 
lores  black,  with  black  line  running  to  base  of  bill;  white  beneath,  washed 
with  grayish.  L.,  9.00;  W.,  3.75;  T.,  3.80.  Range.— United  States,  west 
to  the  Plains,  northward  to  New  England.  Breeds  from  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico  to  Virginia  and  casually  northward  to  New  Jersey  and  the  Great 
Lakes. 

THE  CITY  OF  THE  LONGLEGS 

GREAT  BLUE  HERON  (Ardea  herodias). — "Center  of  the  crown  and 
throat  white,  sides  of  the  crown  black,  this  color  meeting  on  the  back  of 


230  APPENDIX 

the  head,  where  the  feathers  are  lengthened  to  form  an  occipital  crest; 
neck  pale  grayish  brown;  a  narrow  black,  white  and  ochraceous  line  down 
the  middle  of  the  fore  neck;  feathers  of  the  lower  fore  neck  narrow  and 
much  lengthened,  whitish  with  sometimes  black  streaks;  back,  wing 
coverts  and  tail  slaty  gray;  the  scapulars  paler,  narrow  and  much  length- 
ened ;  bend  of  the  wing  chestnut  rufous ;  a  patch  of  black  and  white  feathers 
on  the  side  of  the  breast;  breast  and  belly  streaked  with  black  and  white, 
and  sometimes  pale  rufous;  feathers  on  legs  dull  rufous;  legs  and  feet 
black;  upper  mandible  olive  yellow;  the  culmen  blackish;  lower  mandible 
yellow;  lores  blue."  (Chapman.)  L.,  45.00;  W.,  19.00.  Varies  much  in 
size.  Range. — North  America. 

LITTLE  BLUE  HERON  (Ardea  cwrulca)  . — Head  and  neck  dull  chestnut; 
the  rest  of  plumage  dark  slaty  blue;  legs  yellow.  Young  for  two  years  are 
white.  L.,  22.00;  W.,  10.50.  Range. — From  Illinois  to  South  America. 

A  QUARTET  OF  WOODLAND  DRUMMERS 

DOWNY  WOODPECKER  (Dryobates  pubescens) . — Back,  wings  and  tail 
black;  middle  of  back  and  outer  tail  feathers  white,  the  latter  barred 
with  black;  wings  and  wing  coverts  spotted  with  white;  under  parts  white, 
and  a  white  stripe  below  the  eye.  The  male  has  a  small  red  bar  across 
the  nape.  L.,  6.75;  W.,  3.75;  T.,  2.50.  Range. — North  America,  west  to 
the  Plains  and  south  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico. 

YELLOW-BELLIED  SAPSUCKER  (Sphyrapicus  variusj. — M. — Back  barred 
•with  black  and  yellowish  white;  wings  spotted  with  white,  coverts  mostly 
white;  tail  black,  outer  feathers  having  white  margins;  white  line  below 
eye,  crown  and  throat  bright  red,  breast  black,  belly  pale  yellow.  Fe. — Has 
the  throat  white.  L.,  8.50;  W.,  4.80;  T.,  3.20.  Range.— Eastern  North 
America,  breeding  from  Massachusetts  northward.  In  winter  it  is  spread 
through  the  Southern  States,  the  West  Indies,  Mexico  and  Costa  Rica. 

FLICKER  (Colaptes  auratus) . — Back  and  wing  coverts  brownish  gray, 
barred  with  black;  rump  white;  primaries  black  outside,  but  shafts 
beneath  are  yellow;  tail  black  above  and  yellow  beneath;  upper  tail 
coverts  streaked  with  white  and  black.  Top  of  head  and  sides  and  back  of 


APPENDIX  231 

neck  ash;  a  scarlet  stripe  across  the  neck;  sides  of  head,  throat  and  breast 
!>rown;  black  cheek  spots,  which  are  wanting  in  the  female.  Under  parts 
ure  cream  yellow  and  spotted  with  black.  L.,  12.00;  W.,  6.00;  T.,  4.25. 
Range. — North  America,  west  to  the  Rocky  Mountains  and  Alaska. 


RED-HEADED  WOODPECKER  (Melanerpes  erythrocephalus) . — Back,  wings 
and  tail  blue  black;  under  parts,  secondaries,  upper  tail  coverts  and  ends 
of  outer  tail  feathers  white;  head,  neck  and  fore  breast  crimson.  The 
immature  bird  has  a  grayish  brown- head,  and  secondaries  barred  with 
black.  L.,  9.75;  W.,  5.50;  T.,  3.30.  Range.— United  States,  west  to  Rocky 
Mountains. 


APPENDIX  II 

METHODS  FOR  STUDENTS  AND  TEACHERS 
Suggestions  for  Bird  Study 

The  general  awakening  to  an  interest  in  the  subject  of  ornithology  has 
called  for  the  means  of  gaining  a  more  precise  knowledge  of  the  names 
and  habits  of  our  common  birds.  Many  persons  are  deeply  interested  in 
observing  the  forms  and  movements  of  the  wild  birds,  and  yet  are  con- 
scious that  their  efforts  are  on  the  whole  not  well  directed. 

Much  information  concerning  the  activities  of  birds  can  be  acquired 
by  observation  without  the  assistance  of  text-book  or  teacher;  but  to  become 
absolutely  accurate  the  need  of  one  or  both  is  indispensable.  Those  to 
whom  the  assistance  of  a  teacher  is  not  possible  can  at  least  equip  them- 
selves  with  one  of  the  several  excellent  text-books  which  are  now  on  the 
market.  Some  of  the  best  of  these  are: 

Handbook  of  Birds  of  Eastern  North  America,  by  Frank  M.  Chapman. 

(D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  publishers.     Price,  $3.00.) 
Birds  of  Village  and  Held,  by  Florence  Merriam. 

(Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.     Price,  $2.00.) 
Manual  of  North  American  Bird.s,  by  Robert  L.  Ridgway. 

(J.  B.  Lippincott  Co.,  Philadelphia.     Price,  $7.50.) 

Equipped  with  one  of  these  books  the  most  inexperienced  observer  is 
ready  for  work,  though  the  aid  of  an  .opera  or  field  glass  will  greatly 
assist  one's  efforts. 

Let  us  imagine  that  the  first  bird  observed  is  a  red  one.  The  color  is 
probably  the  first  thing  that  arrests  the  attention.  You  quickly  note 
whether  it  is  red  all  over,  its  size  and  its  movements.  You  discover  that 
it  appears  to  be  a  little  smaller  than  a  robin;  that  it  has  no  crest  on  its 
head;  and  that  it  is  not  hopping  upon  the  ground  or  soaring  in  the  sky, 

[232] 


APPENDIX 


233 


but  that  it  is  on  a  limb  of  a  tree  or  among  the  boughs.  Does  it  have  a 
song?  What  are  its  call-notes?  On  what  is  it  feeding,  berries  or  insects? 
And  if  both  birds  are  present,  is  the  female  colored  like  the  male?  These 
are  questions  which  quickly  suggest  themselves. 

In  short,  observe  everything  of  interest;  form,  color,  size,  call- note  and 
whatever  else  there  is  to  see,  and  quickly  make  in  a  notebook  a  memoran- 
dum of  your  observations.  Then  with  the  assistance  of  the  "kev"  in  your 
handbook  you  can  easily  determine  the  species,  which  in  this  instance 
would  be  a  male  summer  tanager. 

Should  the  student  have  a  dead  specimen  he  can  take  the  dimensions, 
the  chief  of  which  are:  First,  length  from  bill  tip  to  tail  tip;  second,  dis- 
tance from  last  joint  of  wing  to  the  point  of  the  longest  wing  feather; 
and  third,  length  of  tarsus.  All  the  different  parts  of  the  bird  that  it  is 
necessary  to  observe  for  identification  are  indicated  in  the  following  dia- 
gram, which  should  be  carefully  studied: 


The  ornithologists  named  below  have  kindly  expressed  their  willingness 
to  assist,  within  the  range  of  territory  over  which  they  are  recognized  as 
authorities,  those  who  may  have  any  difficulty  in  determining  a  species. 


234  APPENDIX 

They  will  also  gladly  give  any  information  concerning  the  literature  on 
the  birds  of  their  region,  and  answer  any  other  questions  of  an  ornithologi- 
cal nature. 

ALABAMA  AND  GEORGIA. — Dr.  Eugene  E.  Murphey,  Augusta,  Ga. 

ARIZONA. — Herbert  Brown,  Yuma,  Arizona. 

ARKANSAS,  LOUISIANA  AND  MISSISSIPPI. — Prof.  Geo.  E.  Beyer,  Tulane  Uni- 
versity, New  Orleans,  La. 

CAROLINA,  NORTH. — T.  Gilbert  Pearson,  Greensboro,  N.  C. 

CAROLINA,  SOUTH. — Arthur  T.  Wayne,  Mount  Pleasant,  S.  C. 

COLORADO,  NEVADA  AND  UTAH. — Wells  W.  Cooke,  Fort  Collins,  Colo. 

DAKOTA,  NORTH  AND  SOUTH,  AND  WYOMING. — Dr.  Mortimer  Jesurun,  Doug- 
las, Wyo. 

DELAWARE  AND  MARYLAND. — F.  C.  Kirkwood,  1500  Bolton  street,  Balti- 
more, Md. 

FLORIDA. — Robert  W.  Williams,  Jr.,  Tallahassee,  Fla. 

ILLINOIS. — Benjamin  T.  Gault,  Glen  Ellgin,  111. 

INDIANA. — Amos  W.  Butler,  State  House,  Indianapolis,  Ind. 

IOWA.— Prof.  F.  E.  L.  Beal,  Department  of  Agriculture,  Washington,  D.  C. 

KANSAS,  OKLAHOMA  AND  INDIAN  TERRITORY. — Prof.  D.  E.  Lantz,  Man- 
hattan, Kansas. 

MICHIGAN. — Walter  B.  Barrows,  Agricultural  College,  Mich. 

MINNESOTA. — Dr.  Thos.  S.  Roberts,  1603  Fourth  avenue,  South,  Minne- 
apolis, Minn. 

MISSOURI.— Otto  Wildman,  Old  Orchard,  Mo. 

MONTANA. — P.  M.  Silloway,  Lewistown,  Mont. ;  M.  J.  Elrod,  Missoula,  Mont. 

NEW  ENGLAND. — William  Brewster,  145  Brattle  street,  Cambridge,  Mass. 

NEBRASKA. — Prof.  Edwin  H.  Burlour,  University  of  Nebraska,  Lincoln, 
Nebraska. 

NEW  MEXICO. — Dr.  A.  K.  Fisher,  Department  of  Agriculture,  Washing- 
ton, D.  C. 

NEW  YORK. — Frank  M.  Chapman,  American  Museum  of  Natural  History, 
New  York  City. 

OHIO  AND  KENTUCKY. — Prof.  Lynds  Jones,  Oberlin  College,  Oberlin,  O. 

PACIFIC  COAST. — Chester  Barlow,  Santa  Clara,  Cal. 

PENNSYLVANIA  AND  NEW  JERSEY. — Witmer  Stone,  Academy  of  Natural 
Sciences,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 

TENNESSEE. — Mina  Baker  Mitchell,  Chattanooga,  Tenn. 


APPENDIX  235 

TEXAS. — H.  P.  Attwater,  Houston,  Texas. 

VIRGINIA  AND  WEST  VIRGINIA. — Dr.  Wm.    C.  Rives,  1723  I  street,  Wash- 
ington, D.  C. 

WISCONSIN. — II.  Nehrling,  Milwaukee,  Wis. 
EASTERN  CANADA. — E.  D.  Wintle,  17  Saint  John  street,  Montreal,  Canada. 

The  student  who  has  a  handbook  can  not  only  get  from  it  the  name  of  his 
specimen,  but  can  learn  of  its  geographical  range  and  its  habits  of  migra- 
tion, and  thus  know  at  what  season  to  look  for  it.  He  can  get  hints  of  its 
nesting,  food  and  other  habits,  which  tell  him  enough  to  give  him  an  intelli- 
gent foundation  for  further  observation  regarding  the  species.  If  the 
student  will  continue  the  work  of  identifying  and  observing  birds  during  a 
vacation,  or  as  opportunity  offers,  he  will  soon  notice  with  joy  the  increas- 
ing number  of  friends  which  greet  him  each  time  he  goes  afield. 

An  occupation  most  stimulating  to  the  study  is  to  make  a  list  of  all 
the  birds  seen  and  positively  identified  in  a  neighborhood.  The  bird  popu- 
lation is  constantly  changing,  and  it  varies  with  the  seasons  as  the  great 
waves  of  the  annual  migrations  pulse  to  and  fro.  By  keeping  a  sharp  look- 
out one  ought  to  be  able  to  determine  one  hundred  or  more  varieties  of 
birds  in  an  ordinary  neighborhood  in  a  year's  time.  A  magazine  of  popular 
ornithology,  Bird  Lore,  published  by  the  Macmillan  Company  at  Harris- 
burg,  Pa.,  for  $1.00  a  year,  is  a  valuable  periodical  for  all  bird  lovers. 

SUGGESTIONS  TO  TEACHERS 

Although  it  is  recognized  as  essential  that  a  teacher  should  have  a 
pretty  fair  understanding  of  a  subject  before  attempting  to  teach  it,  no 
such  rule  should  hinder  the  beginner  in  bird  study  from  endeavoring  to 
interest  others  in  the  subject.  It  is  a  deference  to  this  rule  that  keeps  many 
teachers  from  branching  out  in  nature  work  of  this  character. 

The  teacher  need  not  assume  to  know  much  about  the  birds,  but  he 
can  work  and  observe  with  his  pupils.  Children  always  become  fascinated 
with  bird  study  if  their  efforts  are  appreciated. 

At  the  time  of  the  opening  exercises  in  the  morning,  or  for  a  short 
period  during  the  day,  permit  the  students  to  make  reports  of  birds  they 
have  seen  since  that  time  the  day  before.  The  teacher  should  keep  a  list 
of  these  on  the  blackboard.  The  pupils  should  be  encouraged  to  make  a 
list  of  the  foods  of  birds. 


236  APPENDIX 

During  the  spring  and  fall  it  is  an  excellent  plan  to  record  on  the 
board  the  name  of  each  new  bird  as  it  appears,  together  with  the  date 
of  its  appearance  and  the  name  of  the  pupil  who  first  sees  it. 

It  is  sometimes  well  to  have  the  pupils  make  lists  of  the  birds  seen 
within  the  school  grounds,  or  the  village,  or  a  particular  field.  If  the 
school  be  in  a  large  city  where  few  birds  are  seen,  specimens  of  mounted 
birds  or  bird  skins  may  be  shown,  and  trips  to  the  museums  or  zoological 
gardens  may  take  the  place  of  the  tramps  which  the  village  or  country 
teacher  can  have.  Beautiful  colored  pictures  of  birds,  which  are  excellent 
for  schoolroom  work,  can  be  procured  at  very  small  cost.  The  Perry 
Pictures  Co.,  Maiden,  Mass.,  and  AJ  W.  Mumford,  Chicago,  111.,  have  a 
large  list  of  these. 

In  many  graded  schools  systematic  work  in  bird  study  is  mapped  out 
for  several  years  throughout  the  grades,  and  excellent  results  are  being 
realized, 


TINI 


of  CAWFOBNIA 


«B 


^£^H^— — ^" 


SEP  29192 


APR  18  1932 


MAR  2f 
MAR  2  0  1951 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


